The Long Dark
by nchi-wana
Summary: A failed ambush against Blush creates a rift between Alternate and Fino. They go their separate ways, but when Fino discovers Alternate is involved with a gang of outlaws intent on robbing a bank, she sets out to investigate and bring her friend home again.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** _Et Cetera _and all its characters belong to Tow Nakazaki. I'm just a fan and I like to write fanfiction sometimes. All non-canon, original characters featured here are my own creations. Reviews and critique are always appreciated.

* * *

Fino brought the Zodiac Gun close to her chest before peering around the corner. She wasn't taking any chances. If he was there, and she wasn't ready, he'd shoot first. It'd be the end of her.

Hidden in the alley next to the brothel, she waited, daring to allow one eye to leave the safety of the corner. Men came and went from the building where merry piano music tumbled out whenever the door swung open. Laughter could be heard where Fino was stationed, its muffled jauntiness reverberating through the wood next to her head. As the sun began to set in the west, the traffic of men increased. The revelry within intensified.

_He should be coming out soon_, she thought. She was able to take her attention away from the door and glance across the street. A wagon trundled by, sending up a cloud of dust, but she was able to spy his dark form through the haze. Alternate passed the time near the post office, leaning against the wall with his hat lowered over his eyes. His arms were crossed, one hand cupped under an elbow, the fingers twisting the short leather fringes hanging from his shirt sleeve.

Even with his face concealed, Fino knew her friend was watching the brothel closely. A brief thought flitted through her mind, that Alternate might also wish to go inside and join the party, but she shook the idea away. He wasn't that kind of a person. He wasn't anything like Blush.

The daylight was waning, yet Fino remained. A lifetime of walking, riding, setting up tipis, and foraging for food had conditioned her physique. She was capable of waiting hours upon hours. The hands hidden in her riding gauntlets had known years of sewing, tanning, beading, and the string of the bow. She could keep her fingers on the trigger of her gun for as long as it took.

Alternate had shifted his position. A hand went up and touched the brim of his hat. It was the signal.

Fino's sights snapped on the figure emerging from the brothel. Tall and broad-shouldered, Blush sauntered off the boardwalk and onto the street. He staggered somewhat, and clear indication that he'd been drinking. She almost scoffed aloud. He'd let his guard down like that?

The urge to attack washed over her, but Fino kept looking at Alternate. He continued to stand idly against the wall, his hat still low. He had yet to give her the second signal.

They couldn't afford to miss this chance. It'd taken them weeks to find him again.

Fino's heart hammered against her ribs, and a rush of adrenaline surged through her head. Her trigger finger trembled. _Give the signal, Alternate!_

But he didn't. He returned to his previous stance of leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. It didn't appear he'd be moving again.

Fino tore her eyes away from him to the man in the street. Blush replaced his hat and sunglasses, even though the sun was beginning to set and the sky was darkening. His back was to her, and she couldn't read his face. Did Alternate detect something? Was the former Syndicate killer aware of their presence?

Blush lingered for a while longer, standing still like a wolf sniffing the air, and then began strolling way. He may have been heading for a hotel, or maybe another saloon. Fino guessed the former. But if he managed to get into a hotel, they'll end up throwing away an opportunity. She wasn't of the mind to go barging into hotels with a gun. Innocent people would get in the way.

Alternate still hadn't given the signal. What was wrong with him? Didn't he understand that if they just let their enemy walk away, it could cost them several more weeks of searching?

Blush was disappearing into the twilight, and soon he'd be gone. Fino's hands shook around her gun, her teeth grinding in agonizing anticipating. _Now, Alternate! Give me the signal NOW!_

To her horror, Alternate shoved away from the wall of the post office and began making his way toward her. Was he insane?!

Fino wanted to shout at him, but she looked to Blush. He'd stopped in the middle of the road, his head turned toward a building to his right. She could clearly see his profile, but what was he looking at?

She couldn't wait any longer. To her, losing this chance was akin to outright failure. It was now or never.

She jumped out from her refuge and into the road. "Blush!"

Several people in the street stopped as the echo of her call throbbed over the buildings. Blush moved to face her, giving her a level stare. A faint smirk was etched over his features. It was then that Fino realized what had been going on. He knew. He knew all along they'd been waiting for him.

She moved to swing up the Zodiac Gun, and people scattered. There were shouts of "gunfight" as residents dove for cover.

Fino had forgotten that she was ridiculously slow with a gun compared to Blush. As soon as she'd brought it up, Blush's fingers were already pressing on the triggers of his own. The thunderous resound of his pistols were more like that of rifles. It was a single shot, or so it seemed, but the numerous bullets that spat at the ground near her feet told the real story.

She didn't have a chance to fire the Zodiac. The shock of the blasts had paralyzed her thoughts. Before she understood what was happening she was on the ground, facing the grit of the road. Alternate was on top of her, covering her. Fino heard him hiss through his teeth and tense up. Another blast sounded above her. Alternate had taken a quick shot at Blush, and then promptly pulled her up off the ground.

"He's on the run!" he told her as he rushed off down the street.

Fino followed him, but she couldn't see Blush anywhere ahead of them. "Which way did he go?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Alternate replied irritably. "And I didn't give you the signal to shoot!"

"You were going to let him walk away!"

"He knew something was wrong!"

Fino bit back her response and instead focused on keeping up with her friend. They could argue later.

They turned down another street, following the path they believed Blush had taken. Alternate pointed toward a church. One of the double doors at the entrance was swinging shut, and the rest of the street was deserted. The inside of the building was dark through the windows, and with the deepening of nightfall it wouldn't be long before they'd have a hard time seeing without a lantern.

The two friends ran straight for the church. The smooth glass of the windows gleamed with reflections of the neighboring buildings. They seemed strange considering their place between the rough planks of wood that made up the structure, the paint long since peeled away to flakes from exposure to the dry sun.

Before she could go pounding up the stairs to the door, Alternate grabbed Fino's arm to stop her. He kept his voice low. "He's trapped in there."

"Precisely the reason why we should go in!" Fino said in a harsh whisper. "We've got him!"

"More like he has _us_. As soon as we open that door, he'll fire. I say we find another way in."

If there was another way in, it was very possible Blush had found it already and escaped. Fino didn't want to wait. "My gun's faster than his. This time I'll be ready."

Alternate looked her over and paused. Then he nodded. "Fine."

Fino crept up the stairs, cringing as one of the warped boards moaned under her foot. When she went to open the door, she noticed Alternate had remained behind her a few steps. He was going to let her do this by herself? Could she ever trust a man to do anything?

As if sensing her thoughts, her friend was beside her and reaching for the knob. Fino stepped aside, ready to jump into the entryway as soon as her partner jerked the door open.

They moved in unison, Alternate pulling the door and Fino springing to the front. At first she didn't see anything. The sanctuary was almost completely dark. She could determine the faint outlines of the pulpit at the front, and the rows of pews leading to it, but everything else was beginning to meld into shapeless masses. It was silent.

"Come out, Blush!" Fino demanded into the empty space. Not that she expected him to reply, but she heard Alternate exhale. Was he still annoyed with her? "Fine, then," she said. "If you won't show yourself, then I'll make you."

The trigger clicked under her finger. Alternate's cry of protest was drowned out by the explosion that burst from the Zodiac Gun's barrel. A brilliant light flashed, and the church lit up.

There! Blush scrambled away from the pulpit, but not before catching part of his foot in the Taurus bullet's path. The podium and the floor around it erupted into flying chunks of wood, creating lethal projectiles. The man was flung away toward the back wall where he quickly recovered and drew his guns.

Fino and Alternate were already in the church by that time, but as soon as they saw his pistols, they plunged down behind the pews. Blush wasted no time putting bullets in the seating.

The two friends huddled on the floor, separated by a row of pews, listening and feeling as the bullets slammed into the wood around them. As soon as Blush finished firing, Fino, being ahead of Alternate, took the opportunity to fire the Zodiac once more. She took a blind aim under the pew that covered her, hoping the explosion would catch their enemy again.

When the light faded, a debris cloud rolled over them. The sounds of wood plunking to the floor and dirt pattering on the seats came to their ears, but there was no sound of a man crying out in pain. Fino waited again for Blush to fire, but he didn't. Behind her, Alternate was muttering something.

Feeling somewhat disoriented, Fino took a risk and came out from under the pew. She hoped to see Blush's prone form on the floor, but when she searched closer through the dust, he wasn't anywhere to be found. How could he escape? Didn't the first bullet hit his foot?

What she did find was a gaping hole that used to be the back of the church. At least half the building was missing, its guts strewn out on the street behind it. People were beginning to run to the scene.

"Fino!" Alternate said as he stumbled toward her. He coughed and placed a hand over his nose and mouth. "What is the _matter_ with you?!"

She turned to face him. "He escaped! We'd better go—"

"No!"

His reply startled her. She threw him an incredulous glare. "What do you mean, 'no'? He can't be far. We still have time!"

"We blew it, Fino! He'll be out of this town on a fast horse before we can find him. And now we've attracted everyone's attention. The sheriff will be here. We've got to go!"

They went for the front exit, and as Alternate slammed the door behind him there was a mournful groan from the church. The two of them hastened away from the building just as it collapsed into pieces. The steeple buckled with it, and the bell came crashing down with a tremendous gong.

Iiiiii

"I can't believe you," Fino said as she rode alongside Alternate. They fled the town at a fast clip on their horses, leaving the glowing lights of civilization in favor of the dark wilderness. "You would just—You would rather we give up?!"

"We're not giving up," Alternate corrected, "but we can't stay back there. We just destroyed their church."

Fino stared down at the bouncing head of her horse. She didn't care for the white man's religion, but she never intended any offense. "But we had him," she said. "We were so close."

Alternate pulled on the reins to slow his steed. "You call that close? I call it a disaster."

Fino slowed her horse as well. "What's that supposed to mean? It went just fine—except we lost him…"

"We had a plan, Fino. I told you to wait for my signal, and you didn't. We're supposed to be a team."

"We are!"

Alternate's words bit her like a rattlesnake. About three months prior, the two of them left Mingchao, Baskerville, and Benkate after they finished off the Syndicate. Getting to know each other had been awkward at first, but they soon fell into a rhythm of teamwork as they searched for Blush. Their enemy had been unbelievably difficult to track down. Fino hadn't been certain at first that he was even still alive, as they hadn't seen him since the incident on the ship with Cavanaugh and the Syndicate magician Futura. But rumors drifted of a blond man with an enormous ego traveling the vicinity, working as a mercenary and frequently killing Indians to earn his pay. The stories made her blood boil. They traced his whereabouts to the town, and more specifically to a brothel.

Even with three months behind them, Fino found she was quite different from Alternate in a lot of ways, which sometimes put them at odds. He was calculating and preferred to work according to a careful scheme. A kink in his plan could be readily corrected, although Plan B and Plan C were usually mapped out ahead of time. That wasn't to stay he couldn't be impulsive, but he tended to hold back better than she did. His ability to plot the movements of his enemies in advance impressed her beyond words.

She could also plan ahead, but she rarely cared if things didn't work out. If an opportunity arose, she would abandon the strategy. Actually, Fino felt she was pretty good at being impulsive. It came with being a warrior, where split-second decisions could save her life. She rather thought of herself as instinctual rather than impulsive. But she could also read people and weigh their honesty before determining if they were friend or foe, something Alternate, despite his scheming nature, had a tendency to lack. His brief collaboration with Blush to steal the Eto Gun had been evidence of this. He'd fallen for the man's act, one Fino would've thought was too obvious to believe. But then again, he'd also deceived her once, long ago, yet she'd been a child then.

"If we're a team, then I'd like for you listen to me," Alternate said. "You could've been killed back there. He knew something was up. That's why I didn't give you the second signal."

"But if we hadn't acted, he would've gotten away—"

"And he did anyway. I believe that had we waited, we could've followed him and found out where he was staying. I don't know about you, but I would've waited outside until the sun came up if that's what we had to do."

Fino's pride was burned, but she knew he was right. Even so, she said, "If you hadn't knocked me down to the ground, I could've shot him. We could've had our revenge tonight."

Alternate tugged his horse's reins to stop it. "So now you're blaming me for this?"

"But you've been blaming me this whole time!"

"Because it _is_ your fault!"

"Maybe you need to come up with a better plan next time, since you're so set on being the leader here!"

Alternate abruptly goaded his horse forward, leaving her behind.

"Hey!" Fino called. Her heart dropped. "Where are you going now?"

"Home," Alternate replied tersely. He guided his steed to the left and away from her.

He had been staying in her village since they returned from New York. Yaghi was there waiting for them. But when she observed the direction her friend was heading, she became confused. "But, Alternate, home is that way," she said, motioning ahead of her.

"I'm not going back there," he said, his voice growing distant. He tone was flat. "That's not my home. I'm staying someplace else."

The rattlesnake bit again, and Fino's heart dropped further. If he wasn't going to return with her to the village, then where was this "home" he spoke of? She didn't know of any neighboring towns in the area. Was he going to camp out?

She wanted to say she was sorry, but her wounded pride was still smarting. As she watched his form disappear into the blackness, she was left with the stillness of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Fino made a hard run for her village that night, and in the morning she awoke in the comfort of her sleeping hides. She stretched out and pushed aside the heavy buffalo robe, rubbing her eyes. She made a quick inspection of the large space to find she was the only one inside. Her brother, Yaghi, had apparently arisen before her along with her other relatives who slept in the tipi with them. She really had been exhausted when she'd arrived home.

Then her memories returned to the previous evening. Her gaze drifted to the exit flap of the conical structure, which remained shut. Alternate had been staying with some men in another tipi while he lived in the village, as some people thought it was inappropriate that he, a white man, should live in the same tent as her, an unmarried young woman. He stuck with her most of the time, and when she wasn't available he would hang around Yaghi. The men he stayed with weren't fond of him yet, even though people were usually tolerant of whites and traded with them regularly. But no white man had ever lived in the village, especially after the incident with Blush. That convinced the villagers that a visit from any non-Indian foreigner in their camp would have to be brief. This rule had been broken twice; once with Mingchao and her friends, and a second time with Alternate. It was only because the chief had approved. Anyone unknown would've been turned away.

Fino crawled out of the tipi and into the late morning sunlight. People were going about their daily duties, which made her feel guilty for sleeping in. Her relatives already scolded her for being too consumed in her quest for revenge, and suggested she stay at home and leave the white man who killed her parents to the spirits to deal with. But Fino didn't trust the spirits to do the job for her. Blush was still alive. Wasn't that proof enough that the spirits weren't doing anything?

She wandered around the camp looking for her brother, and crested a small ridge at the edge of the village that sloped down toward a river. A line of six horses being guided by some young men were at the water's edge, drinking. Three boys were playing upstream, laughing and grabbing up clots of mud to throw at each other. She saw Yaghi among them and called to him.

When the boy came to her, he smiled sheepishly. "We're done with our chores," he said.

"That's okay," Fino said, glancing beyond him, searching. "Is Alternate here?"

Yaghi shook his head. "No. He didn't come back with you?"

Fino bit her lip as she looked around again. "He didn't. I'm worried he camped out alone last night."

"Did you guys get in a fight again?"

She gave a start. Sometimes she forgot how conscious Yaghi could be of the relationship between her and Alternate. He liked to act clueless and innocent, but he was clever and observant. He was always watching them and the way they interacted. She knew because he'd ask her questions later about why she said this or that to Alternate, or why she sometimes stared at the young man for unusually long periods of time. Even Fino didn't know the answer to that one.

She went on to explain to him what had happened with their encounter with Blush, and the fallout afterwards. Yaghi listened patiently and without judgment. This wasn't the first time Fino and Alternate had had a disagreement. She was more of a go-getter and he was a thinker. As soon as she found a clue to Blush's whereabouts, she wanted to charge into town with her gun drawn, but Alternate wanted to investigate further and lay low until the information was confirmed. For her, it was too slow. More than once she'd dragged him from one place to another, trying to find their nemesis, but he'd resisted and always attempted to calm her down, which sometimes backfired. When it came to Blush, Fino was a powder keg of rage.

"Do you think he'll come back?" Yaghi asked with some hope. "He wouldn't just leave us, would he?"

"I hope not," she replied. "I just wish I knew where he went."

Her brother's face lit up. "Oh! I know where he might've gone. I bet he went to Gordy's place!"

Fino frowned in doubt. "He hasn't been back there since… Probably not since Gordy died." Then it struck her like an arrow through the heart. When Alternate said he was going "home," he meant he was returning to his father's house, near the mine where the big man used to work. Fino hadn't seen the place since the last fight against Gordy. It was probably falling into disrepair at this point, if not completely looted of all its belongings by traveling bandits.

"Are you going to go look?" Yaghi said, bringing her out of her thoughts. A sparkle had entered his eyes. She knew the desire for adventure when she saw it.

"I am," she told him with a nod. "And let me guess, you want to come, too?"

The boy nodded eagerly.

They both headed back to camp and loaded up on a horse. They hit the trail in hopes of reaching Gordy's old house before noon, since the mine wasn't far from the village. Yaghi knew the path by heart, although the memories of the beatings he received from that evil man were still fresh. Fino felt him shiver in front of her. She couldn't quite decide if she was satisfied that Gordy was dead, especially since he was Alternate's father, another one of Blush's victims. The miner had selfishly hoarded what her people considered a sacred site, and she would've killed him had Mingchao not stopped her. But if she had killed Gordy, Alternate would not be her friend today.

Fino had been so engrossed in her own thoughts she was surprised to find they'd already arrived. They'd made good time. Steering their horse up the wide trail leading to the mine, she kept her eyes open for any sign of her friend.

When the siblings reached the top, they saw a horse tied to the bare branch of a desiccated old tree that stood some ten feet high near the front door. The two-story building was beginning to experience some natural overgrowth, but Fino knew in previous years it had been well-maintained by its owner. It was an unusual house for the surroundings, too. It wasn't fancy, but when most miners would construct a good-enough cabin, Gordy had chosen a more upscale design featuring a covered porch and a second level balcony. Alternate had told Fino of an addition to the home for equipment that would process the gold and make it into whatever Gordy pleased.

The mine was located in the side of a cliff fairly close to the front of the home. The entrance was clogged with boulders. Fino recalled the collapse and wondered if the entire enterprise was a loss. It was no matter to her. If it couldn't be reopened, then it meant no more white men.

They dismounted and were surprised to find the door ajar. Fino drew forth the tomahawk she carried in her sash and warily approached. "Alternate?" she called into the entryway. No answer. The two stepped over the threshold and waited, listening for sounds. They heard a faint clunking noise from somewhere under their feet.

"Someone's down there," Yaghi whispered. Fino nodded.

They couldn't figure out how one might gain access to the basement, since Fino had no idea there'd been a lower level. Maybe Gordy kept a stash of gold down there.

She and Yaghi carefully walked across the floor. The house's construction had been so meticulous that even after all this time, not a single board creaked. But Fino was amazed that everything had remained untouched since Gordy's death.

The miner didn't have much taste in furniture. Most of the pieces were modest, indicating an emphasis on function rather than aesthetics. Spaces were open and filled with light pouring in from several windows that faced looking out into the desert wilderness.

There wasn't much to the interior in general. Fino guessed Gordy kept it that way in case of a break-in. Thieves would be disappointed to find almost nothing except basic necessities, yet being so close to a mine would've been a clue something had to be hidden away somewhere. Apparently somebody knew that already.

"Alternate?" Fino called again. They'd taken a turn into another room that was empty. It was a curiously small space without a window and a clean floor. A door on the other side led elsewhere.

The noises under their feet stopped. There was a pause, and then the sound of approaching footsteps. Fino drew back her tomahawk when she noticed a crack in the floor open up, and then a square in the planks pushed up and back. Yaghi scrambled to hide behind her.

"Fino?" Alternate said, his head rising from the darkness below. The glow from a lantern was seen in his other hand.

"Alternate, what are you doing down there?" Fino asked, lowering her weapon. Yaghi went forward to peer into the hole.

"Wow!" the boy exclaimed. "What is that, Alternate?"

"I'd like to know what _you're_ doing here," he returned, directing his comment at Fino. She could sense the minor irritation in his tone. Was she trespassing?

"We were worried," she explained. "This was the only place we could think of to look for you." She craned her neck to see the hole better. "What's down there?"

"Nothing," Alternate replied quickly. He lifted out his lantern to set it aside, and then reached back down to pull out a sack. With some difficulty he set the bag next to the light. It was apparently heavy.

When he pulled himself out of the trapdoor, Fino noticed he still clutched something in one of his hands. He let the door fall shut, dusted off his trousers, and blew out the lantern. He didn't look at Fino when he spoke. "I'm just cleaning out some old junk."

"Did you spend the night here?"

"Yeah."

"Um…" Fino struggled for the words. Should she apologize to him now? When she opened her mouth to do so, he spoke first.

"Fino, I think there's something we should talk about," he said.

Her heart leapt. It was a warning. "What about?"

"I don't know if we can work as a team anymore."

Her heart jumped again and started to race. "W-what do you mean? Alternate, I'm really sorry about yesterday. I'm willing to—"

Alternate shook his head. "No, I think it might be best if we worked alone."

"Why are you saying this now?"

He finally met her gaze. "Fino, I've never belonged anywhere. I don't belong in your village. I can tell the people there don't like me much, and they don't trust me. I just think it might be better if I went someplace else."

Fino blinked. "That's not true! You have friends. You have me and Yaghi, and Mingchao and the others, too!"

"But they're not here anymore."

The way he made the statement troubled her, as if he had some sort of unresolved bitterness. She recalled him mentioning how in his past he'd never had any friends. He used people and stole from them, having no sympathy even if it meant killing them. He was no homicidal maniac, she knew that, but there were times when the possibility of killing someone didn't seem to faze him. Of course he'd be friendless.

"But _I_ didn't," she said, and gestured to Yaghi. "Neither did he."

Alternate sighed and picked up his sack. It was heavy enough that it strained the thick canvas. "I'm not saying I don't have any friends. I'm talking about a true home." He glanced about the room. "Since my Papa died, I can't even call this place a home."

Fino hadn't been aware Alternate lived here at one time. "Did you grow up here?"

At first he seemed reluctant to respond, but then he said, "Not quite. My dad built this place and started the mine when I was still small. I was born somewhere else. I don't even remember my mom."

That would explain why he never said anything about her, Fino realized.

"Dad was never really clear about what happened to her," Alternate continued, his voice growing hushed. "You know, he never used to be so violent. His obsession with gold got worse as I got older. I never knew why, but I just sort of rolled with it, and even I started getting a bit of gold fever." He lowered the bag to the floor like it'd been too heavy to keep holding. "I'd help him in the mine until one day he told me to stop being such a leech and go out and make something of myself."

Fino remained quiet. _This is good_, she thought. _Maybe he just needs to talk. If he just needs to vent, then maybe he'll change his mind about leaving._

Much to her disappointment, Alternate picked up the sack again. He pushed past her and Yaghi into the next room. "So I can't stay here. I want to do what my dad wanted me to do and get out of here."

Fino's mind whirled in bewilderment. There were so many unanswered questions, so many gaps in the story, and she began to panic a little when she couldn't find a prompt reply.

Her first instinct was to reach out and grab his free arm. "But where will you—"

Alternate jerked around at her touch and dropped whatever he'd been clutching in his hand. It clattered to the floor. The sunlight coming from the window struck a delicately wrought piece of gold that Fino recognized as a hair comb. The main body was made from gold, and the prongs appeared to be made of something silvery. Pearls were faceted across the ridge of the body.

Yaghi was quick to swipe it up. "What's this, Alternate? It looks like a girl's."

His face flushed as he nervously adjusted his monocle. "I-it's just something I found in the basement with some other stuff. Just junk I'm going to sell, maybe."

Fino eyed him. What had Gordy been doing with a hair comb like that? She had to agree with her brother's assessment that the comb was a woman's, but as far as she knew, Gordy never lived with any women.

Yaghi handed the comb back, and Alternate opened his sack to drop it in without another word about it. There was a clink when it fell in. Now Fino understood. Alternate had no money. He was looting his father's own hidden hoard of gold to build up a savings. She was sure he had enough to live on for a while, if she knew anything about how white men used gold to obtain what they called money.

"Are you going away forever?" Yaghi asked sadly. His eyes glistened with tears. "You don't like us anymore?"

Alternate smiled, one that Fino could tell was forced. She'd spent enough time observing him over the last few months to know. "It's not that, Yaghi. I'm just going to go _live_ somewhere else. I'll be back to visit, I promise." He looked to Fino as if expecting a response, but she kept her mouth shut.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ouch!"

Her hand recoiled from the work on the boot, and a droplet of blood began to form on the tip of her finger. It stung.

Fino sucked on the wound and looked down at where the needle poked through the leather on the boot she was decorating with beads. That's what she got for being so careless in her daydreaming. This was the second time today she'd pricked herself.

She sighed and brought up her handiwork. The design she was forming was that of a yellow and orange sunburst on the top of where the foot would be. Great care had to be taken not the drop the tiny glass beads that had been purchased from white traders, but Fino had already lost several in her clumsy handling of the needle.

Light fell over her as the door of the tipi was turned aside and a woman peered in. When Fino recognized her aunt, she set aside the boot to greet her. The woman smiled at her kindly and stepped inside.

"You've been in here for quite a while," her aunt said. "We thought perhaps you'd left again."

Fino shook her head and looked down at the few beads she still held in her palm. "No. I just don't feel like going out today." A strange thing to say considering one couldn't possibly stay inside a tipi all day unless they were ill. Interacting with others was a healthy way of living, and some villagers were beginning to wonder if maybe she'd caught a sickness.

"You're still thinking about Glass Eye," her aunt said as she went over to the far end of the tipi. She started lifting blankets, searching for something. Fino knew it was just an excuse for her to come inside and see how she was doing.

Glass Eye was the nickname Alternate had been given by the villagers. They were endlessly amused by the monocle he always wore. A few times the glass piece had disappeared and Fino had to track it down to the children who'd taken it. They never meant any harm, but she had given them a good scolding for it.

She said nothing to her aunt. Singing Bird was her maternal aunt and had taken most of the responsibility of looking after her and Yaghi since their parents died. She knew all about Fino's lust for revenge and always counseled her against the danger of letting a desire for vengeance consume her. Fino was old enough to make her own decisions at this point, but she had to be careful not to allow those decisions to involve other people besides her, Alternate, and Yaghi. She was beginning to find it difficult to do so.

When Singing Bird stopped rummaging through the blankets with nothing to show for her effort, she turned back to Fino. Faint lines of age creased at the edges of her eyes and around her mouth, showing a life of love and laughter. Her eyes were gentle and soft, reminding Fino of supple leather that hugged the curves of the body when worn. That was the effect her gaze had on everyone. Her hair was fastened in a single braid down past her mid-back, and she was clad in a deerskin dress with fringes on the sleeves and small shells sewn along the bottom hem.

"It's not good for you to be so isolated," Singing Bird told her with concern. "It would do you well to get out and be with your family."

Fino's shoulders slumped. "But I want to get this done before the big gathering that's in a few months." She picked up the boot again and tried to find where she'd left off.

Singing Bird went to crouch next to her and picked up the other boot to see the beadwork still unfinished. "Usually you finish one and then work on the other," she said, frowning. "You _are _thinking about Glass Eye."

Fino stopped. "S-so? Of course I'm thinking about him. He's my friend and I don't even know where he's at right now. I'm just worried."

"Hmm." A smile flitted over Singing's Bird's comely features. People often said she and Fino's mother had looked very much alike. "I think it might be something else. Many of the elders are saying you're not feeling well, and I think they know why. I remember when I was your age."

Fino's hand shook a little. She stopped the needle before she pricked herself again. Keeping a steady tone, she said, "I'm feeling fine." She quickly regretted the statement, because she knew she was wrong. _I'm _not _fine. Ever since Alternate left, I can't stop thinking about him. Where is he? I have to know._

It'd been a little over two weeks since Alternate had declared his decision to move out of the village. Although he hadn't burned any bridges with Fino, she was beginning to fear he might later on. Every other day she would mount up and head to the nearest white men's town to try and find him. She figured he might settle in that town, since it was closest to her village, but each time she couldn't find him. A few days ago she went to another town in the opposite direction, and still came up empty-handed. Where in the world could he be? He hadn't even bothered to visit her like he'd promised.

Worst of all she felt like a sitting duck. She was back to her old life of bemoaning her orphan status and the fact that the man who put her in that position was still on the loose. When Alternate was with her, she felt a camaraderie with him that she'd been unable to find with anyone else. He knew and understood her pain. He gave her the motivation to keep looking for Blush. This was why she wasn't able to fathom his reasons for wanting to leave the village, thereby leaving her. Why was he thrusting himself into a world that didn't understand his feelings the way she did? No one else out there cared about him. Did he really feel like he didn't belong with her?

_Belong with me? _Fino wondered, still staring at the boot in her lap. _What does that even mean?_

"You're thinking about him again," Singing Bird teased.

Fino ignored the comment. Her thumb traced the beadwork on the boot. "Aunt, what does it mean to belong?"

Singing Bird blinked in surprise at the abrupt change of topic. She looked up and swept her gaze around the tipi. Along the outer edges were the various bedding and belongings of their relatives. "That is a difficult question, Fino. One could say you belong to your tribe, to your family. This is your home, where people love you and care for you. But even when one is surrounded by people, they can still feel alone."

Fino nodded slowly. _That's sort of how I feel right now without Alternate, yet I still feel like I belong here. _"Some of the things Alternate said… I think he's looking for a place to belong."

Her aunt appeared sad when she heard this. "I see. He did not like being here, I could tell. We, as human beings, like to be around others who are most similar to ourselves. That way we can understand each other. Our ways may have been too dissimilar to his. He may have felt we didn't understand him."

That was why Fino had tried so hard to find Alternate in a white town. "I guess I can't blame him. We were trying our best to make him feel at home, but there were some people who were making it difficult."

Singing Bird's eyebrows came down in thought.

"But did _I_ make it difficult for him, too?" Fino said, mostly to herself. She had to wonder if their different ways of finding Blush, as well as their personalities, had been the factors driving them apart. They'd worked fantastic together the time they went up against the Syndicate with Mingchao and the others, and Fino thought she'd found the perfect partner in her hunt for Blush. In hindsight she realized she'd been naïve. Relationships were more complicated than just having a common goal. There were always snags along the way, and sometimes those snags turned into tears that were difficult to mend if they became too large. This was especially risky when two people hardly knew one another.

"I guess I did," she concluded. "That last fight against Blush was probably what made him finally decide to leave." _I'm a liability to him. If he wants his revenge, then he can't get it with me messing up his plans. _But who was to say it was _her_ getting in the way? How come he wasn't to blame here?

"I believe he'll come around again," Singing Bird said reassuringly. "From what you told me, he may simply need time to sort out his thoughts and feelings. Have courage, my niece."

"I suppose you're right," Fino replied. Her heart was heavy enough to weigh her down to the floor. She wanted to believe Alternate just needed time, but the longer she waited, the more worried she became.


	4. Chapter 4

Her search for Alternate was futile. It had been a month now since he'd left, and still Fino found no sign of him.

The town she had chosen was the furthest yet, a two day ride from her village. It was near a large river that was so wide it needed a ferry to get to the other side. The streets were swarming with people heading to silver mines down south, and lines of wagons were waiting for a chance to use the ferry. Fino didn't want to try to estimate how many people populated this place, but it was the largest town she knew of around here.

As Fino was leading her horse down the town's main street she felt like she was walking in a dream. She was exhausted. The hotel room she stayed in last night had a terrible bed, and she kept tossing and turning and got little sleep. Maybe it wasn't just the bed, though. Her anxiety kept her awake at home as well. Now she was beginning to worry Alternate might be…well, gone forever, maybe dead. No one she asked had seen him, and it seemed all trace of him had vanished.

Her feelings were strange to her. Missing someone wasn't usually this intense. With any other person, the feeling would fade over time, although that didn't mean she no longer cared for someone. But when it came to Alternate, she couldn't stop missing him. It's like the longer he was gone, the more she wanted to see him.

_I'm crazy to be searching like this, _she thought as she walked. _It's like what my aunt said. Maybe I _am _sick._ But how could she be sick? It could be the fact she wasn't eating much, and yet she was willing to travel like she had all the energy in the world. It was taking a toll on her body.

Then she started wondering. If indeed Alternate was alive and well, did he miss her, too? That he hadn't come to see her might be an answer. When she thought about that, it made her stomach roll. The idea of having breakfast made her want to hurl.

Fino felt her horse nudge her gently. He was a beautiful pinto, his white coat splashed with patches of rich bronze. It resembled snow on brown earth, and so Fino had named him Snow on the Earth. She brought up a hand to stroke his neck. "You sense what I'm feeling, don't you? I'm sorry. I've been driving you too hard lately. We'll go home today and take it easy, all right?"

All she felt like doing was sitting down. She led Snow on the Earth to a watering trough near a saloon and sat at the edge of the basin while her steed drank his fill. Once they got out onto the prairie he could eat some grass, but as for her… It wouldn't do for her to collapse on the way home.

Fino glanced back at the saloon behind her. She'd run out of food yesterday, and hadn't taken the time to find any more. Although she didn't like white people's food that often, there were a few dishes she found good. Still, the thought of eating at the moment made her nauseated. _But I need to eat. Maybe it'll help me feel better. I could at least eat a little bit._

Fino wrapped her horse's reins around the hitching post in front of the trough. Hoping they wouldn't turn her away, she entered the saloon and found it bustling with people. Nearly all of the twenty tables were full, including the seats at the bar. It was a clean place with a warm glow, and it seemed friendly enough. No one stopped to glare at her. A staircase led to a second floor where painted ladies were standing in their gaudy dresses, leaning over the railing to catch the eyes of potential patrons. On the walls were mounted heads of animals, such as bison, elk, and antelope. Behind the bar was a large painting with an epic scene of a ship battling raging seas, and from the ceiling hung unlit lanterns on iron chandeliers.

Fino stood there, feeling uncertain. Should she head for the bar, or take one of the remaining tables? She figured she should keep a low profile and take a table. The plan was to stay about a half-hour.

She picked her way around the crowd and found a seat close the wall near the staircase. It was secluded and would allow her to keep her back to the wall to watch the room. Alternate had taught her this technique, and she'd been using it since they started their search for Blush.

A waitress who had been flitting from table to table noticed her. With a smile, the young woman with curly blond hair and a pink dress skipped over toward Fino. "Fancy seeing an Indian here," she said kindly. "I haven't seen one in months."

Fino wanted to cringe, but she withheld. "What do you mean?"

"The Indians around here left when all these folks started showing up. It's because of the silver mines, you see. One white person is bad enough for the Indians."

"For some, maybe," Fino replied. "I'm just looking to get something to eat." She fished under her cape for a pouch containing some coins. "I'll have, uh…" She looked and saw a plate of food a man was eating at a table nearby. "I'll have whatever he's having. It looks good."

"Sure thing," the waitress said, and took her leave.

Fino sat back and waited. Her eyes scanned the saloon, settling on each group of people she could see. Aside from the women standing upstairs and the waitresses, Fino was the only other girl in the building, the only female customer. She supposed it was reasonable that mostly men were heading for the silver mines.

Her mind wandered back to the conversation she'd had with her aunt, about belonging and having a home. Fino would never feel at home in a place like this. She was too different from these people, and even if she spent years living in this town she still didn't think she could assimilate completely. Some part of her would always remain with her people.

Fino's finger traced a deep groove in the table's surface. The fact that part of her would remain with her people was because she already had a home she loved. What if she didn't? If she had nothing to go back to, and no place or community she loved, she could adopt a new life elsewhere, join a new people.

She stopped in her exploration of the groove. What did Alternate have to go back to? He had no real home, no one who cared about him except perhaps his father, but Gordy has been dead a long time now.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the waitress returned. The young woman set the plate down along with a glass of water and said, "I hope you like it. If not, I can get you something else."

"You're very kind," Fino replied, taking up the fork supplied to her. The dish was some sort of mixture of potatoes and vegetables. The smell was appealing, and her stomach growled. Her nausea had waned somewhat, so she took a small bite of the food. "It's good!"

When she looked back at the waitress, she found her staring out into the crowd. Fino followed her line of sight, but couldn't see what the young woman was looking at. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

The waitress jumped back to attention. "Oh! It's just… Well, some people just came in."

Fino waited for her to say she needed to go attend them, but the waitress remained. Her face betrayed her unease.

"Who is it?" Fino asked, trying to peer around her. People had stopped eating and lowered their jovial tones as they stared at a group of men who came in and made for the bar. Fino guessed there may have been about twenty of them, and judging by the reaction of the other customers the group might've been known, and not in a good way.

She took another bite of her food, relieved that her stomach seemed to be settling. _Hopefully I can get out of here before any trouble starts. _

The waitress said in a whisper, "It's the Black Eagles. They're an outlaw gang."

Fino kept scooping the food into her mouth. She didn't realize how hungry she'd been this whole time. "Oh."

"Oh?!" the waitress replied, baffled by Fino's indifference. "You've never heard of them?"

"No. I've seen a lot of bad people. One gang's the same as another to me."

The waitress was speechless. "They're notorious for robbing trains and stagecoaches. A while back they burned down half a town to rob a bank! And you're telling me you've never heard of them?"

"No." Fino put down her fork and cast about the room. "Where's your sheriff, anyway? If these are wanted outlaws, then—"

"No one's been able to stand up to them," the waitress said. She looked back at the group near the bar. "It's best to just let them be. It doesn't look like they're here to cause trouble."

"It always appears that way. That's how they get you to let your guard down," Fino said in a low voice. She took a drink of water. "By the way, where might I go to relieve myself?"

"The water closet is out back," the waitress said, sounding regretful. "We're remodeling our indoor one. Go out the back door and it's right outside." With that, she scurried away with a whimper, steering clear of the bar.

Fino ate the last of her food and finished her water. The place was quieting down, but the rowdy outlaws at the bar were marring the peace. She noticed they were ordering multiple rounds of alcohol, which could only mean trouble later. Even the painted ladies had gone into hiding. She was glad to be leaving.

The water closet was outside where the waitress said it would be. Fino was grateful for the privacy, but the heat made it uncomfortable, not to mention the smell. She didn't have much of a choice, however, since there weren't any private outdoor locations in town for her to choose from.

After leaving the latrine, Fino went through the alley between the saloon and another building instead of going back inside. As she was coming out of the alley she heard the thunder of hooves and shouts. She stayed back to let the riders pass, and noted they were the same outlaws from before. _Leaving so soon? _she wondered as she watched. Their horses were kicking up clouds of dust. The commotion alarmed the townspeople, and many ducked away into buildings.

Fino stepped onto the boardwalk in front of the saloon, moving toward her horse, but looked out at the gang that was leaving. A slant of sunlight gleamed off of something, and she blinked.

In the billowing haze of grit, Fino caught sight of a young man. Her heart could've burst from her chest and bled all over her feet. "_Alternate?!_"

It was him. It had to be. The sunlight had struck his monocle, and she could make out his height and build on his horse. But his appearance was so brief Fino didn't have time to confirm it. Instead, she did what her instincts told her to do: run after him.

"Alternate!" she called, dashing into the street. She chased the gang as they sped away, and before long she was coughing and rubbing dust out of her eyes. She stumbled in the road and tripped in a rut.

Fino was spitting dirt out of her mouth when she looked up again. The outlaws were riding out of town, and they were moving too fast for her to catch up on foot. She ran back to her horse and spurred him forward to give chase.

_That had to have been Alternate!_ _But I didn't see him in the saloon with the others. Why? _She must've missed him somehow, perhaps when she left for the latrine?

The exit leading out of town was marked by an iron arch, with a sign hanging from it reading "Golden." Fino spotted about ten men on horseback waiting at the arch, looking out toward the departing outlaws. She could tell by their dress that these men weren't with the gang. A few of them held rifles in their hands.

She planned on barreling by, but they turned their horses to face her. One of them raised his rifle to take aim. "Stop!" he commanded.

Fino fully believed he'd shoot, so she stopped. "My friend is with that gang," she explained in a hurry. "I need to catch up!"

"You're not going anywhere," the man at the lead told her. "You're going to leave those men alone."

Fino saw the copper star on his jacket. "Are you the sheriff? How can you just let those people get away like that?"

"It would take the military to stop those people," the sheriff said. "But the military has bigger problems to deal with. We were here to make sure they all left peacefully."

"Well, I don't care what you're here for," Fino said. "I saw my friend with them and I need to stop them."

"You sure it was him?"

"I think so."

"You think so? You're going to run after a dangerous gang without knowing for sure your friend was really with them? They'll put a bullet between your eyes before you can even ask!"

Fino pulled out her Zodiac Gun. "Just let them try." Before she could barge through, however, the sheriff and his deputies aimed their rifles at her. It crossed her mind to use her gun on them, but then she remembered she didn't have any ammo in it, and her nearest supply was in one of the saddle bags. She grimaced, knowing she was cornered.

* * *

She stood in front of the wall of wanted posters with the sheriff behind her smoking a cigarette. His deputies disbanded and left her staring at the pictures etched onto tattered papers that looked as if they would tear away at the slightest breeze. Some appeared ancient, whereas others were newer. A few spots were empty where the posters had been removed, a bounty paid.

"See 'im?" the sheriff asked. He'd introduced himself as Dawson, the sheriff of Golden for almost five years. He stood just off the boardwalk in front of his office while he waited for Fino to point out a poster on the wall next to the office's door.

Fino had never seen so many wanted posters in one place. Her eyes roamed over the wall. She should be able to quickly pick out Alternate if he was there, but she wasn't seeing him. Some of the pictures were so atrocious it would be impossible to match them to any human being at all.

"The posters for the Black Eagles are up to date, newest members and all," Dawson said. He took a drag of his cigarette and waited. He was somewhere in his forties with auburn hair and a matching mustache. His clothes consisted of a long brown overcoat, a faded green checkered shirt, and a pair of denim jeans with boots.

Fino saw a ray of hope. "I don't think I see him here. But that doesn't mean it wasn't him I saw."

"Everyone who joins that gang becomes a wanted man, or woman," Dawson said. "Doesn't matter if they did something or not."

"But—"

"Now, I just saved you from getting a bullet in the brain. Your friend isn't with the Black Eagles. That should give you peace of mind."

It seemed logical, what Dawson was saying. If she wasn't finding Alternate's face on the posters, then it should stand that he isn't part of the Black Eagles, and that should be a relief to her. But it wasn't. Something still…

She looked up again at the posters, stopping at each one. Dawson sighed behind her, and she heard him walk back into his office. Fino inspected the highest posters. The sun glared down into her eyes, and she blinked in the brightness.

"Sheriff!" Fino said. "I see him!"

Dawson returned in a hurry, but his expression was one of skepticism. "What? Where?"

"That one on top, the highest one." Fino found herself trembling as she pointed.

The sheriff squinted, and pursed his lips. "I just put that one up a week ago." He returned to his office and came back with a ladder. He leaned it on the wall, scaled it, and returned with the poster, handing it to Fino.

"It's definitely him," she said. The artist even took care to give Alternate his monocle. "But none of this makes sense to me! Why would Alternate join an outlaw gang? He's not—"

Her heart almost stopped. She remembered the story about how Alternate almost ran a passenger train full of innocent people off a cliff. There was also that time he shot Mingchao in the chest. He'd held a gun to Fino's head, set a building on fire in Las Vegas, and nearly killed a young kidnapped girl with a stick of dynamite. Of course, Blush had a lot to do with it as well, but Alternate never tried to stop him.

_Alternate was just misguided,_ Fino tried to reason. _He knows better now. He's good! _But the poster didn't lie. He'd done something to get him on the wanted list, and he would know he's on the wrong side of the law. He hadn't gone running back to her for help, either.

Fino's hands were clutching the poster so hard it was crushing the parchment. "Alternate," she whispered, "why? Why are you doing this?"


	5. Chapter 5

Fino heard Dawson coming to stand behind her, and she turned and looked up at him. "There has to be some kind of mistake. Alternate used to get into trouble, but he doesn't do that anymore!"

The sheriff narrowed his eyes. "If that were the case, then he wouldn't be on this wanted poster, would he?"

Crushing the poster in her hands, Fino resisted the urge to toss the wad to the ground and glared up at the sheriff. "Listen, I'm absolutely positive my friend hasn't done anything to deserve this bounty. Tell me there's something I can do to right this."

Dawson seemed skeptical. He stared at her for a few seconds and said, "I don't think there really is, unless you want to bring him in yourself and collect the bounty. But he'd still have to stand trial, and even then I can't guarantee he won't hang."

The idea of Alternate marching to the gallows horrified Fino. Among her people, perpetrators weren't punished the same way white men punished their criminals. Instead, a highly respected mediator brought the offender face-to-face with the offended to talk matters through and restore peace and harmony to the community. The purpose was to have the offender see the damage they'd done, and then they could make appropriate reparations.

Fino was certain Alternate hadn't done anything worthy of hanging—that is unless he killed someone, but she refused to believe he had. "If I can get him out of that gang, would he be spared?"

The sheriff shook his head slowly. "When you're on the list, you're on the list. It's part of my oath that anyone on that list who is captured stands trial. I'm afraid I can't change that for you. It's not in my authority."

The wadded poster was still in Fino's hand. She stared down at it in frustration. _There has to be something I can do, some way around this. Alternate is innocent, I know it!_

While she was thinking this, she noticed Dawson glaring back at his office. His hands on his hips, he shifted the cigarette in his mouth from one side to the other. He sighed and stomped over to the open door.

Fino could read his body language well enough. She followed him to the office and peered around him through the doorway. In the light haze of dust in the room, the sunlight streamed in and fell over a portion of Dawson's desk near the back wall. In the dimness was a man sitting in the chair with his feet propped up, his spurs glinting in a sliver of light as he jiggled his foot.

Dawson let out a tired grunt. "Quincy," he said. "Of course you'd be here."

The man's twitching foot stopped as he noticed Fino behind the sheriff. "I wasn't aware you'd have company," he said with a smooth drawl.

"This girl's here because she saw her friend with the Black Eagles."

"That's unfortunate."

"Indeed it is."

A silence descended, and Fino felt awkward. She could sense their hesitation. They didn't want to talk in her presence.

"When'd you get into town?" Dawson asked as he entered the room.

"A few minutes ago," came the answer.

"Trailing the Black Eagles, as usual?"

"Always."

"But never too closely, am I right?"

Fino's vision had adjusted to the faint lighting. She saw the man in the chair smiling. He removed his feet from the desk and leaned forward, grinning at her. "You said your friend was with the Black Eagles?"

Something in his tone annoyed Dawson. "That's true, but she ain't gettin' involved."

"I'll be the one to decide that," Fino said firmly.

Both men stared at her. It always surprised people when she asserted herself, especially white men. They didn't understand that Indian women were not like white women.

Fino gave the man at the desk a level stare. "Why are you asking?"

"You need help?"

She hated when people answered questions with questions, but she would answer his with another. "Should I need help?"

The man chuckled with amusement and rose from his seat. He was wearing a dark pair of blue denim jeans, a black shirt and waistcoat, and a gray neckerchief, all in need of a good cleaning. His black hat was resting on the desktop. As he came forward, Fino thought his short wavy hair had a reddish hue to it. As he regarded her, he rubbed the stubble on his jaw. He was probably in his mid-twenties somewhere.

"You'd have to have a lot of guts to go up against the Black Eagles," he told her. "They're a mean lot."

"I'm not going up against them," Fino replied. She glanced at Dawson. "I'm just going to convince my friend to come back home with me."

"Why, is he your lover or something?"

"No!" Fino barked, and she felt bad for it. It's not like she thought Alternate was gross or anything. "He's my friend."

"But precious enough that you'd risk your life to approach an outlaw gang to get him back?"

Fino nodded with certainty. "I'm not their enemy. I don't care about bounties or whatever."

Quincy lifted an eyebrow, and then smiled. "Well, the fact is _I _do. I've been following the Black Eagles for months now. I aim to get the bounty on every last one, but there's only one man I've really got a bead on." His expression then became cordial. A nice trick, Fino thought, but she wasn't fooled. "I'll tell you what. I can help—"

"Absolutely not," Dawson cut in. He stepped between them and addressed Fino. "This man here is Quincy Phillips, a bounty hunter known in these parts. He has some sort of vendetta with the Black Eagles. It wouldn't be wise to get yourself caught up with him."

Fino ignored him. "How can you help if you're a bounty hunter?" she asked Quincy. "You want to collect all the bounties, including the one on Alternate. I can't let you do that."

Quincy picked up his hat and put it on. His grin had vanished. "I've had a couple of bad run-ins with them, so the reason why I stay behind them is so they don't see me. They see me, they bolt. My aim is to get as close as possible so I can pick them off."

"There's some forty of them in all, Quincy," Dawson said with disbelief.

"Twenty-five," the bounty hunter corrected. "I got three more the last time we clashed."

The sheriff took a step back and gaped at him. "Do you really plan on killing them all like that?"

Fino suddenly realized where this was headed. "You want me to get close to them."

"Something like that," said Quincy.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Dawson sucked in a breath. "You want her to get information."

Quincy smiled in answer.

"And why should I help you?" Fino asked, feeling defensive. She didn't like what she was hearing. What information could he be talking about? "What would I gain? I don't need your help, and I don't want to get tangled up in another fight. I've got my own battles." The sheriff was standing stiffly beside her and glaring at the hunter. He knew something she didn't.

Quincy watched the sheriff. "Someone owes me a favor."

Fino looked to Dawson. His face was grim. "I don't know if I want to owe it to you like this."

"The sheriff here has connections," the hunter told Fino. "In fact, _he _has a favor coming from someone else, someone by the name of Judge Eli Alverado. We're all just full of favors these days."

Fino was following his lead, but she was still a little uncertain. She knew judges were people who could sentence criminals to death, or set them free, although something called a jury had something to do with it, too. How exactly would that work? "So you want me to help you get information, and if I do, you'll get this favor from the sheriff to get a favor from the judge?"

Quincy nodded. "And the judge can get your friend off the wanted list."

Should she trust this man? When she looked in his eyes, she could tell he wasn't lying. Fino had become a good judge of liars over the years.

"So," Quincy continued, "you get your friend back, and I get my bounties."

"Do you really plan on taking them all?" Fino asked. "And what kind of information do you want me to get?"

The bounty hunter yawned and scratched the back of his head. "I'm looking to get as many as I can," he replied, "but all at once would be nice. However…" He checked the clock on the wall behind the desk. "I need to get a move-on."

Fino's mind raced. Should she accept his help? "Is it true that you owe this favor?" she asked the sheriff.

He hesitated at first, but then nodded. "And it's true about the judge. I saved his daughter from a stagecoach robbery a few years back. I never thought to take him up on the favor."

_He might've forgotten by now, _Fino considered as she studied the bounty hunter. He was patiently awaiting her response. _What if the judge wasn't serious, or won't uphold the favor because Alternate is with the Black Eagles? So much could go wrong with this._ And she didn't want to get herself on the wrong side of the law, either.

"And I saved his young son when he was taken by Indians," Quincy added, tipping his chin at Dawson. "Got him back without a scratch."

This made Fino straighten. "Wait… You saved him from Indians?"

The hunter eyed her. "You're wondering if I killed some."

Fino was quiet, her hands balled into fists. He'd read her mind.

"I killed one." There was no humor or malice in his words, but they were somber, almost regretful. "I don't like killing a man without a bounty, but I'll kill if I have to, don't matter if he's red or white."

Everyone who knew Fino knew she didn't forgive anyone who killed Indians. It didn't matter who was in the wrong. She'd seen enough murder against her people, and against other tribes. Anyone with Indian blood on their hands was anathema to her.

She turned away from the two men and made her way back to the door. Dawson made a sound as if to stop her, but Fino said, "Forget it. I don't need your help. You can save your favors for someone else." No one said anything as she left.

It was stupid, really. What Quincy was offering was the answer to her prayers. Alternate could get off free, but was it as easy as it sounded? Fino knew better than to think that. Nothing was ever that easy. What if her efforts ended up getting Alternate killed? Or what if he didn't want to leave the gang? Quincy would get his information, but she wouldn't get her friend back.

It was too risky, she decided. And she would rather be shot at by dangerous outlaws than work with an Indian-killer.


	6. Chapter 6

Fino chose to stay in town that night. She was too tired to travel further, but her thoughts were still roaming over the earlier conversation. Most of her resented the whole affair, but a smaller part whispered in the back of her mind that she was foolish to reject Quincy's offer. He knew more about the Black Eagles than she did. His knowledge would likely protect her. She would only stumble into the group like an idiot, begging Alternate to return with her.

Maybe the sheriff was right. She was just going to get herself killed.

As Fino was bedding down in a cheap hotel room, she glanced at the Zodiac Gun resting on the nightstand beside her. Surely that would be enough. She could scare the outlaws and convince them she wasn't someone to be trifled with. They'd leave her alone after that.

But the question still lingered. What if Alternate refused to leave? She couldn't force him with the gun, because then she'd definitely look like an idiot. Yet she would rather look like an idiot than say she didn't try.

Although troubled, she was still able to sleep through most of the night. As much as Fino wanted to take off after the outlaws earlier that day, she learned from townsfolk that the gang was camped not too far from town, in a place called Moon Canyon. She planned on following their trail to the canyon in the morning, because she needed rest to restore her strength.

In the morning she picked up a quick meal at the restaurant she'd visited the day before and headed out. She followed the road, which was a typical rural roadway, wide and carved out by wagon ruts and hooves. With the many horses the outlaws had, it was easy to see that they traveled on the road before veering off into the desert. Fino guided her horse off the trail and followed the tracks. The morning was warm and the sky was clear, warning of a hot day ahead. Combined with the tension of meeting these outlaws, Fino could already feel the sweat under her arms and on her back. Her heart was racing.

On one hip she had the Zodiac Gun, tucked in her sash, and on the other hip was her tomahawk. In the saddlebags of her horse were a few small pouches of animal essence, one of which contained the splintered remains of a cow bone, and another with a couple of dried scorpions. It wasn't much, but she didn't have time to go looking for more.

After riding for a half-hour through nearly flat, sagebrush terrain, Fino saw the canyon coming up. She'd been expecting a river canyon, but instead viewed a mountain canyon. She was nearing the side of the valley, and the mountains crept up in dry, craggy peaks of conglomerated browns and tans. The tracks continued to lead in this direction, and Fino marveled at the path. As she stared up into the canyon she could see why the outlaws had chosen this place to hide. It was steep and rocky, and there was likely a spring up there or else the gang wouldn't be camping in the middle of the desert. Anyone coming up this way to bother them would be at a disadvantage of being downhill.

Fino encouraged her horse up the trail. Snow on the Earth was strong, and a horse she'd personally chosen a few years ago. He was worth more than a group of ten regular horses. He labored up the slope at a steady pace. A trail had been worn into the rough dirt by use, and the tracks kept going, but soon the path curved up ahead, around a bend that concealed the rest of the way. Fino stopped and dismounted.

_This is where I stop and move on foot,_ she decided. This was the perfect place for bandits to hide in ambush. Even as she thought this, she wondered if there were watchmen about, spying her right now. She tensed and went searching for the ammunition in the saddle bags. Fino ground-hitched her horse, and then went to collect a shard of cow bone. She took the Zodiac Gun from her sash and crept up the trail.

Everything was quiet. She didn't hear anyone talking. The sound of her feet on the gravely ground seemed almost too loud, and she stopped to listen. Had they heard her coming and hid? Did they have a sniper somewhere up in the rocks, aiming to shoot her dead?

Or maybe they weren't even there. They could've headed out earlier, but where? She would've encountered them at some point had they headed back to town.

On silent feet, Fino made for the bend. The wide, rounded corner would've made it difficult for her to be discreet and peek around the other side, but she flattened herself against it and slowly inched along the uneven wall.

She controlled her breathing, but her heart was pounding and her limbs began to tingle. Sweat beaded on her face, and her headband was beginning to feel damp. She blinked away the droplets that stung her eyes. When she at last cleared the bend, she found an open space, and above it was a large cave with a low, wide entrance. It was some thirty feet above the ground, but there was a small trail leading up to it along the mountain wall. It was probably where the outlaws camped out at night. On the ground below it were horse droppings and miscellaneous supplies stored neatly near the cliff face below the cave. A wagon containing some crates was parked beside them. Fresh tracks dotted the earth, both equine and human. The horses were gone.

Just because the horses were gone didn't mean no one was home but she couldn't see into the cave from her vantage point. The air was still quiet, and she felt herself relaxing despite the internal warnings.

She walked to the supplies on the ground. There were some saddlebags, stacks of rope, and a few wooden crates identical to the ones in the wagon. Fino picked up a bulging burlap bag to find someone's clothes stuffed inside. She couldn't tell if they might've been Alternate's, and she wasn't about to pull them out to see. One of the saddlebags contained boxes of bullets and some rather old looking guns. Another had items she couldn't make out. Some of the things white men carried were a mystery to her.

When she was done rummaging through their belongings, Fino made for the crates. She thought they might be sealed, but when she pried her fingers under the lid of one, it came away easily.

Fino knew what dynamite looked like. The stacked rows of pale-colored sticks appeared to have a few missing considering the tight way they'd been arranged. The open spaces made it obvious.

Quincy had wanted her to obtain information. Did the dynamite have something to do with it? Fino remembered what the waitress at the restaurant had said. Dynamite would make the perfect weapon to set a town ablaze, and if the gang did it to distract people when they robbed that bank, then… Could they be plotting another robbery?

Her soul grew cold. They could be out there now, robbing another bank. And Alternate was with them. A town could be in flames while the outlaws got away, her friend in their midst. What was Alternate thinking now? What _did _he think when they were stealing from innocent people?

Fino didn't believe he could approve of any of it. Did Alternate have some ulterior motive? But what could it possibly be?

She was replacing the lid to the crate when she heard hoof beats. They were still a ways off, but she knew there was little time. Running back to her horse, Fino brought him into the area of the cave. The trail led out beyond it, further into the canyon, and so she took the exit. She'd gone some five hundred feet before stopping, wanting to put a safe distance between herself and the camp.

But now Fino was in a hard spot. If they found her and decided to give chase, she'd have no choice but to go further up the canyon, and who knew where that led? Probably to a dead end for all she knew.

This brought to mind another problem: Even if she remained undetected, how would she get out? The outlaws were blocking the exit!

_I'd have to wait until nightfall, when they're all asleep, assuming they don't post sentries, and they probably will. But if I can talk to them peacefully, maybe they'll let me go._

Fat chance. But she took the Zodiac Gun and reluctantly slipped it back into her sash along with the tomahawk. She wouldn't attempt to deceive them by trying to hide her weapons, and it wouldn't be wise to go unarmed anyway. _I'll defend myself if need be, but I'll only do it as a last resort._

Quietly, she tiptoed toward the camp, stopping every five steps to listen. The sounds of the men seemed to be confined to the area of the cave, but the noise echoed over the walls of the canyon, rowdy laughter and snorting horses. Fino couldn't decide if it was better that the outlaws were in a good mood, or if interrupting that mood would be worse. She had to wonder _why _they were in such high spirits.

As she came close to the entrance of their encampment, she spread out her arms, palms out, in hopes of sending the message that she meant them no harm. If Alternate was with them, then she may have a better chance of success.

She emerged into plain view of the gang. There were fewer men than she recalled seeing in town, meaning this wasn't the entire force. Her eyes instantly sought out Alternate, but found him missing. Her heart dropped.

It didn't take long for the outlaws to notice her. About five of them were hauling some heavy crates up toward the cave, while around ten more were milling about, unloading their horses and joking about some previous incident.

One of them near the cave gave a shout, and the group froze. They grabbed their pistols, glaring at her with their eyes shifting over her appearance. She probably looked like a child to them. Fino was short for her age, but then women among her people were usually short. But the fact that she was an Indian more likely put them on extra alert.

She refrained from exuding an aggressive vibe. Her palms were sweating and her mouth was dry as the men slowly approached her, their guns aimed at her.

Keeping her voice steady, she said, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm not here to bother anyone. I just came looking for someone."

At her perfect English, the men were amazed and exchanged glances. A few lowered their guns slightly. Movement near the cave entrance caught Fino's attention, and one man came jogging down the trail. A light jingling sound could be heard as he came toward her.

"You're looking for whom exactly?" he asked with a cautious air. He wore a bizarre outfit. The fabric was a light color, almost white, with a jacket and trousers that flared out toward the feet. Hanging from fringes on his trousers and sleeves were tiny bells. He had unruly blond hair and a lazy smile, but when he looked at Fino she felt uneasy. There was something more sinister behind that genial façade.

"My friend," she answered. "His name is Alternate."

The men were again surprised. They watched their leader, and his smile wavered. "Alternate? He isn't here."

"I see that," said Fino. "Will he be back soon?"

"What do you want with him?"

"It's a personal matter. When will he be back?"

Her curt responses were annoying him, she noticed. "He may not be back for some time, maybe not until tomorrow. He's out with Holloway."

"Are you the leader here?"

"I'm second-in-command. Holloway's the boss." He paused and examined her a moment. "I remember you. I saw you at the saloon, a strange place for an Indian to be." His eyes then narrowed with suspicion. "You're not with the Preacher's Kid, are you?"

"The what?"

The man spat off to the side, a gesture of disgust. "The _bounty hunter_. They call him the Preacher's Kid. He carries a rifle called the Lead Messenger."

Fino knew lead was another word for bullets. "I don't know anyone by that name." She suspected, however, that he was implying Quincy.

"He's been following us," the man told her. The others around him were grim. Just the name of the bounty hunter killed their mood. "We've lost nearly half our number since he started pursuing us. He's really quite relentless." The smile returned. "Anyone we find associated with him, we kill."

Fino sighed. "Well, I assure you I don't have anything to do with him."

"That's very good."

A few uncomfortable moments passed between them. Fino saw the men staring at her, some of them with less-than-pure intent. She let her expression harden. "I suppose if Alternate isn't here, then I should be going."

"Go?" the man asked. His lips pulled back into a rictus of yellow teeth. "Why, stay here with us and have a good time!"

_I think I know where this is going_. Fino brought her fingers to her lips and whistled for her horse. The sound split the air, and Snow was heard running. She waited patiently, even while the men were beginning to bring their weapons up again and come toward her. She saw one of them run his tongue over his sunburnt lips, grinning at her with a devious glint in his eyes. The second-in-command stood there while they began to surround her, his arms crossed in approval.

Fino's horse came careening into the camp. He rushed past and she grasped the saddle, swinging up. She locked her sights on the other exit, not bothering to draw her weapons despite the bullets that were beginning to cut the air past her head. One grazed her right shoulder, tearing the leather and leaving a hot trail in her skin. Hooves sounded behind her, gaining ground. Her only worry was that her horse would trip down the winding and uneven trail, but if she could get out onto the open flats she would be home free. She doubted they'd care to follow her all the way back to town.

The steep trail almost caused her horse to stumble a few times, and a cascade of rubble tumbled down the slope ahead of her. Bullets ricocheted off the stone walls of the canyon. Fino fought to stay in the saddle as her horse rocked and bounced violently. She kicked her heels into his flank as hard as she could, but Snow didn't need goading. The thunder of hooves behind them resembled a fleeing herd of buffalo pouring down the narrow canyon trail. The closer the ruckus got, the more tempted Fino was to draw the Zodiac Gun.

The end of the canyon came into view, and Fino grinned. Her horse was equally glad, and gave one last push for the finish. Just as they were about to cross into the desert, a boom knocked Fino from her saddle and sent both her and her horse crashing to the ground. She landed on her side and rolled, while her horse sprawled several feet away. Chunks of earth and rocks pelted them. Snow scrambled up and hastened away in terror.

Cursing, Fino tried to run after him, but he was stuck in flight mode, as any sane creature ought to be. Fino began running, but knew it was useless to escape the outlaws on foot.

It took her a few moments to realize the thundering hooves had stopped. Drawing her gun, Fino whirled around and brought it up, but found the outlaws had scrambled back up the trail and into their fortress of stone. A mound of debris lay spilled at the mouth of the canyon, almost blocking the trail, but not so much that the outlaws couldn't get around it. So why did they turn back?

Fino examined her dirty shoulder and found it bleeding slightly. She'd have to get it cleaned and bandaged to be on the safe side. Looking out onto the plain, she saw her horse standing in the distance and staring at her, as if to ask what had happened.

The explosion reminded her of dynamite, and since the outlaws had dynamite did they throw a stick at her? It seemed foolish considering what they managed to do to the trail.

She waited a few more minutes before slipping the Zodiac back into her sash. It was good she didn't have to use it. She wanted to remain somewhat on the outlaws' good side and show them that she wasn't a threat.

Fino whistled for her horse and inspected the rest of her body for injuries, but found none. It could've been much worse. Had Snow fallen on her she would've been crippled or killed.

She was about to swing up into the saddle again when there was movement from her peripheral vision. It came from the canyon mouth. Drawing her gun again, Fino waited.

A small figure appeared from behind the mound of debris, wearing dirty mismatched clothes and a small straw hat to shade his face. His dark eyes gazed at her seriously. He held his hands out to show he was unarmed, and then came trotting toward her. Fino didn't know what to make of him. He seemed harmless enough, but she kept her gun out.

When he stopped in front of her, he said nothing. They stood there for a time, staring at each other with curiosity.

"Who are you?" Fino asked at last.

The boy eyed her, and then shook his head.

"What, you can't talk?"

He shook his head again.

"Did you cause that explosion?"

A white, toothy grin cracked over the boy's face. He reached back into his pants and pulled out a stick of dynamite. This wasn't the same kind of stick Fino remembered seeing in the outlaw camp. This one was wrapped with red paper.

"You know, that's dangerous for a kid to handle," Fino said, but the boy's grin never faltered. He was probably the same age as Yaghi, which softened her heart. "Why are you in the canyon throwing dynamite? Were you trying to help me?"

He pointed at her shoulder, a question on his face.

She fingered the tear and frowned at it. "I guess I should get back to town." If the boy couldn't talk, then she wouldn't be getting any answers. "Where'd you come from, anyway?"

He indicated the general direction of Golden.

"Well, you should get back, too. If those outlaws saw you throw that dynamite…"

The boy nodded somberly in understanding, but there was a gleam in his eye that told Fino he wasn't scared.

She offered him a ride on Snow, and they rode back to town together. She found it hard to believe that a young child with dynamite just so happened to show up when she needed help. Something was amiss, and Fino wanted to find out what it was.


	7. Chapter 7

It had taken Fino a while to find a doctor willing to treat her. The wound was shallow, and minor enough that it didn't take long for the doctor to clean and bind it. The physician, Dr. Mason, muttered under his breath as he worked, about "bigotry," "fear," and "discrimination," and how "unchristian" it all was. He'd gladly taken Fino into his office, but didn't ask any questions about how she came into her condition. Fino was grateful that he respected her privacy, but she could tell he was concerned and fighting the urge to inquire.

"Is your family nearby?" Dr. Mason asked after fastening the last of the bandages. He was a short man with thick spectacles. He was balding, but hair remained at his temples and circled his head from the ears on back. He was kind and Fino felt comfortable in his presence.

"About two days away," she replied, allowing him at least that much information. "I've been looking for a friend of mine."

"Found him yet?"

"No."

"Ah. I'm sorry."

Fino nodded in thanks. She went to fish some money from her pouch, and stared down at the coins in her palm. Alternate had taught her how to count money. She'd memorized the numbers associated with each coin color and size. She never understood why it had to be so complicated, but the more she spent time in the white world, the more necessary it became that she know how their world functioned. Over time, she found herself becoming a sort of bridge between the whites and her people, in a similar way traders were. _Trading wouldn't be such a bad profession_, she thought. _I could travel everywhere and see all kinds of people._ How much she had changed since meeting Mingchao and her friends! Her vision of the world was widening.

Those thoughts were interrupted when she heard the doctor clear his throat. "There will be no payment for this," he said, smiling at her. "It's on the house."

"What's on the house?"

"The payment."

"The payment is on the roof?"

"N-no, I mean you don't have the pay me a fee because I said so."

"Oh. Okay." Fino still had a long ways to go before her vision of the world was wide enough to understand Americans.

Giving him her thanks, she stepped out of the small building that was the doctor's office. Snow was hitched at a rail there, watching her. Fino noted the subdued atmosphere in the street. Ever since the Black Eagles appeared yesterday, everyone was as wary as a deer in a meadow. With a pang of guilt, she knew she may have disturbed the harmony by going to the outlaw camp. Would the gang return? Since this was the closest town to the camp, they likely would.

The boy she had ridden into town with disappeared not long after arriving. He'd slid out of the saddle and dashed off down the street, and wouldn't stop no matter how much she yelled after him. Fino noted the direction he left, and how he'd made a bee line for a hotel. She had expected him to enter the hotel, but instead he slipped into the adjacent alley.

Fino walked to the hotel. It was unassuming with a plain face and a sign that read "High Western Hotel." It was two stories tall, but even from her position she could tell it didn't have many rooms; it a cheap place. As she passed the alley, there was a staircase leading to the second level, another entrance. This may have been where the boy went.

Her suspicions grew, but she wasn't about to jump to any conclusions just yet. She decided to enter from the lobby. The inside was as simple as the outside, and behind an undecorated desk stood a woman who looked like she was about ready to crumble to dust, she was that old. Fino wasn't sure the woman could even see her as she came in.

Fino approached the desk, and when the old woman didn't greet her, she said, "Um, did you see a boy come in here earlier?"

To her surprise, the woman suddenly moved. The mass of wrinkles around her mouth worked over her toothless gums, and her gray eyes opened. Her snowy white hair was pulled up in a knot over her head like a wispy cloud, and her red dress seemed as faded as her years, every bone sticking out under the threadbare fabric.

Apparently her hearing hadn't faded, nor her vision. She stared at Fino for a moment, and then she shook her head.

"Is there a boy staying here?" Fino asked.

Again the old woman shook her head.

"Are you sure? I saw a kid come running into the alley beside this building. I thought maybe he used the stairs outside to get upstairs…"

The woman stared, her answer the same.

"He wears old clothes and a straw hat."

The crone bent to retrieve something from behind the counter. She heaved up a large book and set it down gently on the desk. Fino was amazed the weight of the book didn't break the clerk's arms off.

The thick book creaked as it opened, the pages crackling as they were slowly turned. It was the hotel's guest registry. A bony finger traced the most recently etched lines, stopping at each name as if the woman needed a moment to remember.

Curious, Fino leaned forward to see. She'd learned a little of the English alphabet and some pronunciation of the letters from traders, though she was far from literate. She only hoped she could see a name she knew.

Fino's finger flew down on a name, bumping the old woman's hand and making her frown. "Who is this?" Fino asked quickly. "What does that say?"

The clerk's eyes narrowed in annoyance, but she gently brushed Fino's hand away. "Quincy Phillips," she replied in a cracked voice, her words a little slurred from lack of teeth.

"I knew it!" Fino nearly shouted in triumph. "Where is he? What room?"

Now the woman was suspicious.

"I'm an acquaintance of his," Fino explained. Even that statement seemed a stretch since she only met Quincy just yesterday, and not for long.

The clerk weighed the truth of her words, and took so long in replying that Fino was beginning to feel awkward. "Room Nine," the woman said, pointing to a nearby hallway.

Fino ran for the hall. Luckily she could read numbers as well, but only so far. She knew nine and six looked similar to each other, one came before the other, and nine was larger than six. As soon as she spotted the right door, she hesitated. Should she be polite and knock, or bust through like she wanted to? Quincy was a bounty hunter and no doubt skilled with a gun. It wouldn't be wise to surprise him.

She knocked. When there was no answer, she tried again. Nothing. Just her luck he wouldn't be in. Or was he? He could be refusing to answer.

"Mr. Phillips?" Fino called. "Are you in?"

Silence. On a hunch, she tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. Now this was an even more precarious situation. "Mr. Phillips, I'm coming in," she announced.

The door swung open slowly, and she was met with an unoccupied room. Apparently the hotel offered only the bare bones of amenities. There was a bed and a chair in one corner and a wash basin in another. A set of dresser drawers were situated next to the bed with a dusty mirror hanging from the wall above it. This must've been the "fancy" room considering the chamber pot resting beneath a chair with a hole in the seat. Fino averted her eyes from it.

The bed was neatly made and didn't look like anyone had touched it in a while. A suitcase rested at the foot, its latches shut. She could see another case peeking out from beneath the bed. Near the wash basin was a small bag that likely contained toiletries, but all the pieces were put away.

Fino sighed. Why would Quincy leave his own door unlocked? No one with a brain would do that. _Unless he didn't intend to go far._

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, and she looked over her shoulder. Standing in the doorway with both hands braced on the frames was Quincy, glowering at her.

"Are you always of the habit of entering without permission?" he asked.

"I knocked," Fino replied, feeling cross that he'd accuse her. How did she not heard him come in? "And I announced myself…"

"That old woman gave you my room number?"

"You send children out to do your dirty work?"

Quincy straightened. "So you figured that out already."

"I figured it was either you or the sheriff, but I ruled out the sheriff because I thought he had an affinity for children."

The bounty hunter smirked. "You figured right."

"Why, then? Do you have any idea what you've done? Now they might move!"

Quincy pushed past her and entered the room. He didn't order her to leave, so she took it she was allowed to stay.

Reaching under his bed he pulled out the traveling trunk and set it on the sheets. It was much longer than Fino had thought, and narrow. He flipped the clasps up and opened the lid. Lifting something out, he turned back to Fino with a rifle resting in his hands. "They won't move," he said, "not yet, at least." He took the chair next to the bed. With a cloth taken from the trunk, he began polishing the barrel of the rifle. It gleamed golden, and Fino noticed the molded wings against each side of the barrel near the stock. "I helped you because chances were you wouldn't get out alive. Sticky told me they almost had you. I sent him to make sure you got out all right, because I knew what you were going to try."

"Sticky?" Fino asked. "Is that the boy?"

Quincy nodded. "Good kid, and tougher than he looks. Saved his life some years ago and never left me alone, so he travels with me everywhere. I think he came from some Mexican village, orphaned maybe. Hasn't ever spoken a word, either. He has to use signs." He looked up from his work. "But you didn't come here to ask me about him."

"If you think I came here to ask you for help, then you're—"

"Right," Quincy interrupted. "They'll be more reluctant to let you in next time, but Sticky said you never used your weapons, which might've made a good impression on them. You still have a chance." He tossed the cloth back into the open gun case. "My offer still stands. You saw what bad men they all were, but I won't touch a hair on your friend's head. I'll personally see that he gets all charges cleared. I have the influence."

Fino swallowed, feeling heat rise to her face. Even if she succeeded in getting Alternate out of the gang, he would be on the run the rest of his life. There was nothing she could do to help him with that, and she didn't know anyone else who could, either. She'd been foolish to reject Quincy's help. She'd be doing her friend a serious disservice if she didn't try to find a way to clear his name.

There was still the problem of Quincy being an Indian-killer, though. How could she work around that? His proposal could be a tool for her to reach her goal. The man who made it a sport killing her people used her family to find her tribe's secret treasure. Now it was her turn to be the user. It was a win-win situation. Not a bad deal.

"They had crates of dynamite," she said. "I heard someone say they set fire to a town and robbed a bank at the same time."

Quincy nodded. "The story might be a little exaggerated, but it's true. Dynamite has been a very effective weapon in their arsenal. Sounds to me like they're planning another heist."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need to know which bank they're aiming to get at."

"Is the bank in this town?"

Quincy shook his head. "No. I know this because they don't make their presence so obvious in a town they want to cause trouble in, like they did yesterday. They like to stay hidden, keeping their prey unsuspecting." He leaned forward in his chair, a gleam in his eyes. "If you can get inside somehow and persuade your friend to cough up the information, then we can stop them."

"And Alternate won't get hurt?"

"Nope."

Fino hated the idea of tricking Alternate. Not only that, but he was an expert at trickery. How would she keep him from finding out? "Maybe, if all goes well, I can get him out of the gang first and then ask him about the bank?"

Quincy looked at her like she was being ridiculous. "And if he refuses to leave? Do you think you'll have a good chance of getting the name of the bank at that point?" When Fino flinched, he added, "Yes, _if all goes well_, and he repents of his sins, but I wouldn't place my bet on it."

Fino glared at him. "You don't know Alternate like I do."

He shrugged. "Sure, maybe he's an upstanding kid who just got himself mixed up with this gang on accident, but one wrong move will send them scurrying south of the border, where American law has no jurisdiction, and," he eyed Fino, "where I can't help him."

He was right. She hated to admit it. Quincy was her best chance at getting this situation straightened out. She messed up last time, just like she messed up the ambush on Blush. She never used to do this. Everyone thought of her as confident and successful, and she was, except for the last few months. Nothing seemed to go right. If she screwed up again, she might lose Alternate forever, but unlike what happened last time, she would follow the plans to a T.

The words were hard to get out. "Fine, I'll do it."


	8. Chapter 8

Fino was waiting in the hotel lobby when Quincy came sauntering in. He stopped when he saw her. His hands on his hips, he shook his head and sighed.

"It's been three days. I've done what you said. Now can we go?" Fino asked impatiently. She was sitting on dreary gray couch that looked like it had seen better days. The fabric had been worn away and the cushions had gotten so thin that the springs could be felt keenly beneath Fino's butt. It creaked every time she shifted just a little.

She'd been waiting for more than two hours for Quincy to emerge from his hole, but she'd been awake since the first break of dawn. It was almost noon now.

Quincy glanced at the clerk behind her desk, the ever loyal sentinel. Fino could've sworn the old woman hadn't moved for at least ten minutes. She would occasionally clear her throat, smack her lips, or sigh, but she didn't talk to Fino.

"Does she sleep like that?" Quincy asked with curiosity.

"She can hear you, know you." Fino placed her hand on a leather bag that rested beside her. "I'm ready to go when you are, although I thought we'd be gone a long time ago."

She had been anxious for the last three days, biting all her nails off in the process. Quincy had at first suggested they wait three days to let the gang calm down after her visit, and then commanded it when Fino protested. She didn't want to wait that long. What if the gang had run off not long after she'd left? They would be three days ahead of her!

"They're a flighty bunch," Quincy had told her. "They really don't like random visits from strangers. They would've been on high alert after you, but give it a few days and they should let some of their guard down."

Fino conceded, but not without some reluctance. She was tempted to return sooner, the very next day, even, but was able to restrain herself. The only reason she was trusting Quincy was because of his influence to clear Alternate's name, not because she thought he knew what he was doing. She had yet to find that out.

Seeing that Fino was prepared to leave, Quincy shrugged. "I suppose we could get going."

"You _suppose_?" Fino said, her voice rising. "We should be leaving _now._ It was dumb to wait this long to start with. If they were planning a robbery three days ago, they may have already done it!"

An irritated growl issued from the old woman's throat.

In a lower voice, Quincy said, "The deputies have been doing some surveillance. They've watched that canyon for three solid days and haven't seen hide or hair of the gang, which means they're still up there."

"How come you didn't tell me this before?"

"I would've certainly told you if they were leaving."

"But you didn't tell me you were watching them!"

"Did you need to know?"

"Yes! What if they'd seen Alternate?"

"And would you have run out there like a mad woman, grabbed him, kissed him, and told him how much you missed him?"

Fino sputtered in embarrassment. "N-Not like—No! Of course not."

The old woman chuckled lightly. Fino narrowed her eyes at her.

"Not quite?" Quincy echoed, a smile spreading over his face. "So I'm justified in not telling you about the watch."

"I _wouldn't _have done that," Fino said firmly. She got up and went to stand in front of him. Her dark gaze bored into his without blinking, but his smile never changed. He'd shaved that morning and apparently bathed. The fresh scent of soap wafted down to as he stood over her. His clothes were clean, although his black hat was still coated with a bit of dust. When Fino first met him, Quincy looked like he'd been traveling hard with little rest. His outfit had been dirty and he'd had a good several days' worth of scruff on his face. Now that he was cleaned up, Fino noted with some awkward surprise that he wasn't a bad looking fellow.

"I believe you," Quincy said, making her eyes widen slightly. "Although I'd keep my emotions in check if I were you. They can get you killed."

The offense cut Fino like a knife. "Why, because I'm a _girl_? I have perfect control of my emotions, thank you very much." Somehow that didn't ring entirely true in her own ears, but like heck she was going to let him think she was weak.

"A girl?" Quincy said, his lips parting further in a grin. "By now, among your own people, aren't you considered a woman?"

"It's not any of your business," Fino snapped. She didn't want to say that she was forced to grow up early the day her parents were murdered, but Quincy was indeed correct. Sometimes it was hard to see herself as a woman when she looked at her reflection. Her first menses was followed by an elaborate ceremony that culminated in the declaration that she was now a grown woman, eligible for marriage. But all Fino saw was a scared little girl shivering in a dark corner, still grieving for her stolen childhood.

_I _have _grown up, though_, she decided, keeping her eyes locked on Quincy's. _I'm going to walk straight into that gang and get Alternate back._

"We don't have time to stand here and argue about petty matters," she told him. "Let's go." Turning on her heel, she grabbed up her pack and walked out the door.

A short while later, Quincy left the hotel with bags of his own and his rifle. His horse had been left in the stable next to the hotel, and when he brought the animal out, Fino was impressed by the size of the beast. Its muscles rippled under a gleaming black coat, and it seemed to snort at her with disdain. The bounty hunter swung up into the saddle, and Fino had to admit he looked quite regal. Maybe the outlaws did have something to be afraid of?

Quincy slipped his gun into the rifle scabbard on the saddle and led the way out of town. The two of them said nothing more to each other as they passed under the iron arch. The plan was to approach the outlaw camp again, but Fino would go alone while Quincy hid out of sight.

With her horse trailing behind him, Fino began to formulate what she would say once she faced the outlaws again. She didn't know how they would react. They could chase her away again, or they might be inclined to hear what she had to say, especially considering how bold she would be to approach them a second time. If they chased her away, how many more times would she have to confront them before they finally accepted her?

If Alternate was there now, she wouldn't have to worry about any of that. He would be on her side. She just knew he would be. Then she'd have to get him alone somehow without making the others suspicious. However, Fino was still unsure how she would get the name of the bank without making Alternate suspicious.

As they rode in silence, Fino noticed a stream of dust in the distance, coming toward them on the trail. The rider was coming at them hard. As he came closer, Fino recognized the sheriff. He looked worried and anxious, and stopped his horse when he met them. He pulled off the neckerchief from around his neck to daub at the sweat that was pouring down his face. Dawson took a moment to catch his breath and glanced from Fino to Quincy with a questioning expression.

"Bad news?" Quincy asked, seeming unconcerned.

Dawson took a breath. "They've left."

Fino lurched forward in her saddle. "They've _what?!_"

"They left not too long ago, heading southwest. They're on the move."

"How many? All of them?"

Dawson nodded. "Pretty sure it was all of them. Carrying a load in a wagon, too."

Quincy vented a curse and spurred his horse ahead, but before Fino could follow, the sheriff jerked his horse to block her.

The bounty hunter was well out of earshot when Dawson said, "You're with him now?"

Fino clenched her jaw and glared back at him. "Yes."

"I should warn you, I know Quincy. Although he's trustworthy, he's also an opportunist."

"So you're saying he's a backstabber? That's nothing new to me."

"That's not quite what I mean. He's been known to manipulate situations to suit his interests."

"So he's a backstabber," Fino said as she rode around him. As far as she knew, that didn't make someone trustworthy. Whatever the sheriff meant, she didn't know, but she didn't have time to ponder.

Quincy was already far ahead of her. He veered off the trail and into the sagebrush, heading for the canyon. Fino followed.

She expected the hunter to blaze up the canyon, but he stopped suddenly and dismounted. When she arrived beside him, he was crouched on the ground, looking at tracks.

"Southwest," Quincy murmured to himself. He looked up at her. "I'm guessing you want to say you told me so?"

As much as she did want to blame him, Fino remembered what happened the last time she accused her partner. "We'd better hurry before they get too far."

Quincy squinted at the canyon. "I'd like to take a look around their camp first."

"But if we wait—"

"We canwait."

"But _why_?"

"I have my reasons."

Fino paused and tried to quell the anger that bubbled up in her breast. "Then they'd better be good reasons."

They rode up the canyon slowly with Quincy in the lead. He'd taken out his rifle and held it in the crook of his arm, but he also had a pistol in a holster at his hip, ready for action. If Dawson was mistaken and the entire gang hadn't left yet, they'd be in trouble, but Fino believed Quincy wouldn't be taking this risk if he felt the gang wasn't gone.

When they were getting close, Quincy stopped and let Fino come up beside him. "You go in first," he whispered.

"Why, do you think they're still there? Don't you think it was bad idea for you to come up here in the first place?" Fino rolled her eyes and dismounted.

With the Zodiac in her hand, she walked into the encampment. In the quiet stillness, she knew no one except Quincy and herself were present, but one could never be too cautious.

The camp was empty. For a band of outlaws, they cleaned up well after themselves, because only a few pieces of trash were left behind. More importantly, however, the boxes of dynamite were missing. The sheriff was right. The gang headed out for the last time.

_Which means Alternate is gone again,_ Fino thought as she scanned the tracks on the broken ground, hoping to find any small sign of him, no matter how tiny. _Does he even know I came here the other day?_ Maybe he did and chose not to do anything about it. She was determined to find him anyway, whether he wanted to see her again or not.

After telling Quincy the way was clear, the bounty hunter walked in and went straight for the cave. Fino accompanied him, and was surprised to find it wasn't as large as she'd expected. It may hav been able to hold about ten people, meaning everyone else would've had to sleep outside. It wasn't very deep, either, tapering off at the back to where one would have to crouch. Evidence of occupation was apparent on the low ceiling where smoke from multiple campfires had blackened the granite. Fino imagined this place may have been used by Indians for centuries, possibly longer. On one wall was a faded red spiral painted by some long-ago dreamer on a spiritual journey.

The floor was covered with ages of grit, with larger stones intermingled with the gravel, probably fallen from the ceiling over time. There were charred remains of an old campfire situated closer to the mouth of the cave. Quincy hunkered near it with his hand combing through the debris next to the pit's stone circle.

"How long ago, do you think?" Fino asked, watching as the hunter stood with a handful of dirt. He began picking out twigs and pebbles.

"For the fire, about an hour ago," he mumbled. He found what he was looking for and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, letting the rest of the dirt drop. "They left sometime after that, though."

Taking whatever was in his hand, Quincy shook it in his palm. It made a jingling sound, and immediately Fino knew what it was.

"I heard those bells on the man I met the last time I was here!" she said. "He said he was second-in-command to their leader."

"Holloway," replied Quincy, still staring at the bell. "But this belonged to Shade." He clutched the bell in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Fino watched him warily. She knew bitter rage when she saw it. "Is he the one you mentioned you were after?"

Quincy nodded. "His bounty isn't as high as Holloway's, but for me his blood is worth more than all the bounties I've ever been paid. He's the end of my long journey." With that, he turned and walked out of the cave.

When they returned to their horses, Fino asked, "Is that all? Why did we even come here?"

"I wanted to make sure Shade was still among them," Quincy said as he climbed back into the saddle.

"And if you hadn't found any evidence?"

She received no answer. Instead, Quincy took the lead once again and began to make his way back down the canyon.

Fino followed close behind, and considered her words carefully before she spoke. "This isn't about getting bounties on a bunch of outlaws, is it?" She tried to remain polite, but wanted to imply that she desired the truth. "You're looking for this Shade person. Had he not been among them, would you have broken off your deal with me?"

Quincy halted his horse, turning in the saddle to regard her with wonder. "Are you always this…_frank_?"

"No, I just like being honest."

"Sometimes too much honesty can get you in trouble."

"Then I'm ready for it."

Quincy blinked.

"I also appreciate it when others are honest with me," Fino added.

The hunter put a hand on his hip as he stared at her. "If that's what you want, then yes, I would've considered this mission futile and let you go on your own."

For a bounty hunter to give up an opportunity to collect several bounties just because one man wasn't there… _Whatever that man did to you must've been pretty bad, _Fino thought. Then again, she might've done the same thing if her main target had been Blush. Could she blame Quincy?

"I _do _care about getting the bounties, however," he said as he lightly spurred his horse. "My lifestyle doesn't sustain itself otherwise."

Fino eyed him. He seemed to wear nice clothes, or at least clean ones, although she couldn't tell if they were cheap or not. His rifle certainly wasn't cheap. It must've been the "Lead Messenger" Shade had mentioned.

She wanted to ask him more about it, but decided against it, and so they wound their way down the trail without further discussion.


	9. Chapter 9

"They shouldn't be too far ahead," Fino said to Quincy as they rode out from the canyon. "We should be able to catch up." But she was beginning to wonder about that. She kicked herself for letting Quincy burn up time just to find evidence of one person. The only person who should matter in this case was Alternate, and yet he seemed to be the least of Quincy's concerns.

"That's assuming we don't lose them first," Quincy replied. They were moving quickly through the sagebrush, following the path of rough earth left behind by the outlaws.

Fino detected something in Quincy's words. "You believe we might lose them?"

"They're tricky," he said. He slowed his horse somewhat to let her come up beside him. "They've been known to split up and confuse any pursuers. The trails can go on for days, maybe longer, until they finally regroup. Few have the patience to keep up the chase. I'm one of those people."

"I understand," Fino said softly. Quincy wanted Shade that badly, just like she wanted Blush. She'd be willing to wait for days on end just to get a clear shot. Maybe she and Quincy had something in common here, a connection she could use.

They'd already wasted a few hours of precious daylight, which also meant the gang was a few hours ahead in the chase. But the pair was trying to stay undetected, so being a bit far back would probably work to their advantage. Fino reasoned that the gang would have to stop at some point before dark, and wouldn't likely continue through the night. Where were they headed? To the town with the bank they planned on robbing?

As the day waned, the warm air yielded to the chill of oncoming twilight, and Fino felt the gooseflesh rising on her arms and legs. Riding made the air feel colder, and she hoped they might stop soon, but they needed to be sure the gang had also stopped.

The sun slipped behind the horizon, and Fino watched Quincy in front of her. If it were her, she would've stopped by now, but she underestimated his drive. How would he see the tracks in the dark? Even as the first stars began to prick the night sky, and the moon's bright face rose, the two riders forged ahead. Fino felt her horse slowing as it began to tire.

"Quincy," she said, "we should stop. We can't keep going like this."

When it didn't seem like he heard her, she was going to say it again, but he slowed and brought his horse to a halt. He stood still for a moment, staring out into the deepening darkness, listening or looking for something.

Fino climbed out of her saddle. She strained her eyes and ears to sense what he was sensing, but couldn't detect anything. She followed his line of sight. They had stopped in a relatively flat area dotted with sagebrush rooted in coarse gravel and sand. Ahead of them was a series of low-lying, rocky hills, strangely out of place in the flatness. Their outlines were beginning to vanish in the dimming light.

That's when she noticed it. A faint glow emanated just barely above the ridges of the hills. There had to be several large fires going to create that, enough for a gang of more than twenty people. Fino felt her heart constrict. The distance was less than half a mile to the glow.

"We'll camp here," said Quincy, swinging down from his seat.

"Isn't it a little close?" Fino asked, still staring at the glow.

He glanced at the hills, paused, and said, "No."

"What if they have watchmen out on those ridges? They might see us if we make a campfire here."

The hunter looked around. "See those large boulders over there? We'll get on the other side and camp there."

She had doubts about that. Those boulders seemed small to her and would provide little concealment for their campfire, but she supposed if they kept it low enough… "Fine."

They guided their horses to the boulders. Fino inspected the rocks and found them to be at least twice her height, not like what she expected earlier. From behind these, they just might be able to remain hidden, even with a campfire.

"Wait," Fino said suddenly. Quincy stopped, his hand reaching for a bag on this horse. "Before we unload everything, I want to see their camp."

Her companion scowled. "Now is not the time to make our move."

"That's not what I mean. I just want to spy on them for a few moments, and see if Alternate is with them. It's only fair after you made me go with you to see if Shade was still with them."

Quincy sighed and looked at their belongings. He knew why she wanted to refrain from completely unpacking. Should they be discovered, they'd have to make a run for it. "Fine. Let's go take a look," he said in resignation.

* * *

They walked on foot toward the hills. With night approaching, Fino was concerned they might have a hard time making it back to the boulders without a lantern, but when she took a look at the moon, she knew it was going to be a bright one, almost full. It should provide enough illumination for them to watch their steps.

Fino felt her nerves humming the closer she got the hills. In the twilight she could see the tall shapes of exposed rocks as they rose from the earth like silent, eternal sentries. Her eyes darted to each shape as she found them, almost expecting one to be a human watchman that would call out to his comrades. Their shapes were lumpy and peculiar, like stacked pillows, catching the ghostly light of the moon as the orb climbed the sky.

As the pair moved along, they scanned their surroundings for watchmen and found none, at least not yet. They were fortunate this night. A shout from the camp echoed toward them and nearly made Fino jump. Once she heard Quincy sigh. He thought this trip was reckless, she knew. They could easily be caught, and all because Fino wanted to catch a glimpse of Alternate, _if _he was there.

They found a rough path around the rocks that would lead them near the camp. The path inclined upward, and Fino had to be careful where she placed her feet and not scrape on the gravel and make noise. Quincy seemed to have the same idea because he made hardly a sound, walking slower than before and stepping lightly.

The path led the pair closer to the glow of the camp, and Fino's hands grew sweaty inside her riding gauntlets. She made a mental note of the Zodiac Gun in her sash, loaded and ready. Several more minutes brought them to two enormous pillow-rocks with a small opening between them. The rocks acted like a wall that ended the path, but the opening was large enough for one person to peer through, so Quincy had to stand behind Fino to see over her head. It felt awkward having him stand so close, almost touching her, but it was worth it, because they had a clear view of the camp below them.

The men were sitting around four campfires, eating and laughing and sharing drinks. Their horses stood nearby in a cluster, resting, with one man going around checking their hooves. Tents were set up near the fires, two with the glow of lanterns inside and shadows moving about, men settling down for bed. At the center of the camp was a spring of water, looking like a black pool in the night.

Fino felt a nudge as Quincy offered her a spyglass. She took it gratefully. Again she was reminded of Alternate, and a bright hope filled her. Scanning each man slowly, she began to make a count. "About sixteen outside," she said, "but I don't know how many men are in each tent."

"They might fit two men per tent," said Quincy. "Some may already be asleep. I'm counting eleven tents, which might mean—"

"There are only twenty-two people in this camp. Weren't there supposed to be more?"

"But I could be wrong," Quincy admitted. "I haven't exactly studied their camping habits."

Which could mean her counting was pointless. "I don't see Alternate, either."

"He could be in one of the tents."

"I know that. But I have no way of knowing for certain unless I—"

"Don't even think about it."

"I wasn't!" She scanned the men again. "I don't see this Shade person, either."

Taking the spyglass back, Quincy made his own assessment. "You're right, and I don't see Holloway, either. If he was gone the last time you saw the gang, he may still be. He's likely out on reconnaissance."

"On what?"

"It means he's out looking for something, trying to get information. I wouldn't be surprised if he was already scoping out the bank he plans on taking."

Fino watched the jovial men as they unwound for the night. Alternate could be with Holloway if he wasn't here. She swallowed. "Could we wait a while longer to see if they show up?"

Her partner was quiet as he considered it. "I'm amazed they don't have people out on watch," he said. The notion was alarming. They weren't counting the full force of the gang here, so could it mean…? "I don't think it's a good idea. If they don't have watchmen out right now, they will soon, and we're right where they should be."

Without waiting for Fino's reply, he stepped back, leaving a cold spot behind her.

Fino took one last look at the camp, her heart feeling like it was about to break. Alternate had eluded her again. She was becoming increasingly impatient. For half a second she wanted to be angry with him, as if he'd been purposely avoiding her, but she knew how silly that was. He probably had no idea she was looking for him. When she's at last reunited with him, would he be happy to see her?

Reluctantly, Fino followed Quincy.

* * *

Little was said between them as they set up camp. They opted to sleep under the stars without a tent, preferring to keep their surroundings visible without the obstruction of tent walls.

Fino was busy getting the fire going when Quincy laid out his bedroll. She noted the simplicity of his belongings, never seeing anything particularly costly in appearance. She knew little about the lifestyles of bounty hunters, and what they were paid for their services. Dawson hadn't said much about Quincy, other than the hunter was well known in the area. Funny how _she'd_ never heard of him.

"How long have you been a bounty hunter?" Fino asked as she stoked the fire. She wanted to get her mind off Alternate.

"Nearly ten years," Quincy replied. He reached for one his saddle bags on the ground and pulled out a can of beans and a pan.

"What did you do before that?"

He gave her a look, as if wondering why she was asking.

"Surely you haven't been a bounty hunter your whole life," Fino added.

"No," he conceded. "No, I, uh…worked as a stable boy when I was younger, and then as I got older I got a job as a general store clerk." He gave her an amused smile. "Respectable work."

Fino had to agree. "Then what led you to…?"

Quincy looked away.

He wasn't going to answer, Fino realized, and rightly so. It was probably too personal. She could respect that. To change the subject, she said, "You know, the first time I met that man named Shade, he thought I was working with you."

The hunter gave her a sharp look, and then went to work opening the can with a lever-type can opener. "And what did you tell him?"

"I said I wasn't, and that I'd never heard of you."

He chuckled.

"I wasn't lying," Fino asserted. "I meant it. He called you the Preacher's Kid and I had no idea he was talking about you. I only figured it could be you because Dawson said you'd been after them for a while and Shade said the same thing." She watched him as he fumbled with the can. "They believed me."

"That's good." Quincy kept his focus on the can. The lid was halfway open at this point. "But they might be upset should they find out you _are_ associated with me. All the more reason for us to be cautious."

"I understand." Fino could tell he was struggling with his task. It seemed strange to her considering he must have spent enough time living outdoors to know how to open a simple can. He was distracted. "Would you please give me that can? You're driving me crazy!"

She expected him to protest, but instead he lowered his head with a sheepish smile and handed her the can along with the opener. In short time she pried the lid off and gave the can back. "I've done this plenty of times with Alternate," she mumbled. With that thought, she realized how much she still missed him. Her heart ached with the knowledge that he might be just over those hills. So close, yet so far.

Fino turned to grab her bedroll. "Why do they call you the Preacher's Kid anyway? Was your father a preacher?"

When she received another pause in response, she thought she'd once again hit a sore spot with Quincy, but he said, "No. My mother was a preacher."

His words were soft, almost a whisper. Fino understood the implications. "Really? I thought only men could be preachers in your religion?"

"Well, see…" Quincy stopped and took a moment to pour the beans into the pan. It was taking forever just to prepare a basic meal. "I'm not quite typical."

Fino's brows rose. Suddenly this man before her was different from the one she'd met just a week ago. He's gone from cocky and confident to awkward and reserved. Who was the real Quincy? "You mean you're not typical for others of your religion?"

"Ehhh, we're a small group," he said. He glanced behind him at a pile of sticks they'd collected earlier. They were going about this all wrong. First they needed to create the tripod above the fire to boil water in the pan and add the beans…

"Is it new?" Fino asked, implying the religion.

"No, it's been around for a long time." He took three sturdy sticks. "We're Quakers."

"Never heard of them."

"Not surprising. People think we're strange because some of our ideas are…different. Like women are allowed to lead congregations and that they are equal to men. My mother was outspoken on a lot of things. Some people didn't like it."

"I see." Fino wondered if perhaps something happened to Quincy's mother, but she wasn't about to ask. Then another thought came to her. "Wait, doesn't your religion teach it's wrong to kill?"

For a brief moment, Quincy's eyes went wide. He chuckled. "Yes, it does."

"Then why are you a bounty hunter? Don't you have to kill people?"

Quincy still had the can opener in his hand when he pointed it at her. "You ask a lot of questions."

"S-sorry," she replied, embarrassed.

"But, since you are so eager to ask," Quincy continued, "I don't always kill people. My preferred method is to maim. Criminals can be more valuable alive in some cases. Others of my faith would still frown upon my ways no matter what, but this is the life I chose."

Fino nodded. This pleased her to hear, even though in the past she wouldn't have batted an eye at taking the life of an enemy. But then again, these people Quincy went after were not enemies. They were his payday, even if they deserved death and were likely executed later. Maybe Quincy took the bigger risk and chose to keep his prey alive so he didn't have to take a life. She found this honorable, even compassionate, despite the fact that these were uncompassionate criminals.

She chose not to delve further into the topic, letting Quincy have his privacy. He finally went about setting up the tripod to cook the beans. Later they ate together in silence, and when they were done, Fino offered to clean their plates and utensils.

As they were beginning to bed down and let the fire die, Quincy broke the quiet. "This kid you're looking for—"

"His name is Alternate."

"That's right, Alternate. You say he's your friend?"

"Yes."

"You've known him a while?"

She let a few moments pass as she thought. "Not very long. Maybe…five months? Why?"

"Just wondering."

"No, really, why?" It worried her that he wanted to know. "Are you suggesting I don't know him well?"

"You two must've forged a pretty strong bond."

A log popped in the fire, sending sparks up to flare and die. As the light faded, it was getting difficult for Fino to read Quincy's face. He was lying on his back, looking at the sky.

She hesitated before answering_. A strong bond_, _huh?_ Their bond wasn't so strong that Alternate had bothered to contact her again. She watched the embers in the logs as they pulsed red and yellow. Small sparks erupted again from some surviving wood, reminding her of the tiny points of anger in her heart as she remembered Alternate's broken promise to her.

"Maybe," she admitted. "When I first met him, I didn't like him at all. I thought he was a liar and a thief, and he was. But he saved my life, twice. That and we have something in common—a goal, you could say. After a while, he proved he'd changed and he never went back. That's why I'm…" Fino choked on the words, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Images of her and Alternate's partnership flashed through her mind, showing how far he'd come. _Don't cry_, she told herself. _Not in front of this man_. "That's why I don't understand why he did this, joining an outlaw gang that wants to rob a bank. It doesn't make sense."

Quincy paused, and said, "I was just curious, that's all. I suppose I can't relate exactly."

"Relate to what? Me wanting to save my friend?"

"Feeling so strongly for someone I barely know to chase them for miles, just to have them back again."

There was no sarcasm in his statement, although Fino thought he sounded a bit lonely. A bounty hunter's life must be difficult. Did he not have any friends or family? A lover, even?

Fino rolled over to gaze up at the stars. She didn't agree that she "barely" knew Alternate, but when she really thought about it, five months isn't a long time, and one month was spent apart from him. Although they shared a similar experience of losing their parents to the same person, he didn't often open up to her about his deepest feelings or thoughts, no matter how close she tried to get to him. It was if he hadn't entirely trusted her yet. Again it brought back the idea of belonging and being able to relate to others similar to oneself. Had Fino's friendship not been enough?

"There's a story among my people," she began. "It's one that I keep thinking about, and it makes me feel obligated to help Alternate." She looked at where Quincy lay to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep yet. "The story goes like this: Sparrow and Snake were good friends, even though they were very different from each other. Sparrow would spot mice in the grass for Snake to eat, and Snake would always find good seeds on the ground for Sparrow.

"One day Sparrow went out to look for her friend and couldn't find him anywhere. She was very upset. She asked all the animals she met if they had seen him, but no one had. Finally she came to a stream where Trout was swimming. He said he'd seen Snake pass by, but Snake was with Hawk. This terrified Sparrow, because Hawk was known to eat snakes. But Trout said Snake seemed friendly with Hawk, but Sparrow suspected something was wrong.

"She kept looking. Soon several days passed, and Sparrow was beginning to fear the worst. At last she came to a cave and found Bat hanging from the ceiling. Bat said Hawk and Snake had come into the cave, but hadn't come out in four days. The cave was deep and dark, and there was no knowing what other creatures lived down there. Even Bat didn't go very far. He said terrible spirits would cry out from the darkness from time to time, and that giant monsters lived down there.

"But Sparrow loved Snake like a brother, and she didn't want to lose him. So she sped off into the darkness without concern for her own safety. She wanted to save Snake from Hawk.

"She flew and flew, and the cave seemed to go on forever. She couldn't hardly see. Then she saw a light, and found someone had made a fire. Hawk and Snake were there, but Snake looked to be asleep. Hawk had used witching magic to make him sleep, and he planned on cooking Snake for dinner.

"Hawk didn't see her coming. She flew at him and scratched him with her tiny talons, and pecked at his eyes until he was dead. After that, Snake woke up and found Hawk dead. He realized his mistake.

"So Sparrow and Snake left the cave together, and they were friends for the rest of their lives."

Fino stopped to catch her breath. She never was very good at storytelling, but she hoped she got the details right. "That's how I feel about Alternate. He's as different from me as Snake was from Sparrow, but we're still friends. I'm willing to fly through that dark cave to get him back. In my village, we call this story 'The Long Dark,' because of the deep cave."

She waited for Quincy to say something, but he didn't. Glancing at his form, she could tell he'd finally fallen asleep. Her mouth dropped open. You don't fall asleep during storytelling! It's rude!

Huffing, Fino rose from her bed to stand watch for the night. She wasn't feeling tired anyway.


End file.
